UNIT,  or  r.AFJF. 


And  then  she  crept  back  to  the  mirror 


IN  THE  HOUSE 
OF  ANOTHER 


BY 


BEATRICE  MANTLE 

Author  of  "GRET,"  etc. 


IM* 


NEW  YORK 
THE  CENTURY  CO. 

1920 


Copyright,  1920,  by 
THE  CENTDBY  Co. 


Copyright,  1919,  1»20,  by 
SUNSET  MAGAZINE,  INC. 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF 
ANOTHER 


2131684 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF 
ANOTHER 

CHAPTER  I 

UNA  waked  partially.  She  could  hear  voices 
and  could  dimly  see  faces  bending  over  her. 
Faces  suspended  in  mid-air,  as  it  were. 

"  I  really  think  it  will  be  quite  safe  to  let  her 
sleep,"  said  a  man's  voice.  "  There  is  absolutely  no 
sign  of  — " 

She  fell  back,  down  into  that  river  of  velvety 
soft  darkness  that  bore  her  along  past  eerie  cliffs  and 
whispering  caverns,  through  great  living  silences  that 
caressed  and  soothed  her  soul.  She  did  not  think  as 
she  entered  that  wonderful  darkness  again.  Still, 
she  knew  she  was  not  asleep:  only  floating  in  the 
most  profound  peace  she  had  ever  known. 

Again  she  came  to  a  place  where  voices  murmured. 
Some  of  the  words  came  down  to  her  in  the  river 
of  darkness.  She  heard  them  impersonally  as  if 
the  words  floated  idly  with  her  and  did  not  refer  to 
her. 

"  Una,"  said  a  voice.     And  the  name  seemed  to 

3 


4         IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

echo  softly  from  bank  and  cavern.  "  Yes  —  it  is  a 
queer  name." 

"  Una."  The  soft  darkness  whispered  it.  "  A 
queer  name  —  a  queer  name.  Una  —  a  queer 
name." 

"  No,  it  was  a  collision,"  said  another  voice. 
Many  murmurs,  it  might  be  of  still  more  voices, 
floated  about  her.  But  only  some  of  the  words  came 
to  her:  "Oh,  no.  ...  He's  an  oldish  man.  .  .  . 
Stenographer.  .  .  .  He  had  detained  her  at  the  office, 
and  was  just  taking  her  home." 

The  murmuring  went  on.  Una  did  not  listen,  and 
yet  it  seemed  as  if  every  part  of  her  quiescent  body 
could  hear.  She  heard,  but  did  not  heed. 

"  She  never  had  a  very  good  time.  And  she  must 
have  wanted  it.  All  girls  do.  Just  had  to  work  and 
support  her  mother." 

Just  had  to  work  and  support.  .  .  .  Just  had  to 
work.  .  .  .  The  words  tried  to  follow  her,  but  the 
river  was  getting  deeper  and  swifter;  she  went  on 
into  that  profound  but  living  darkness,  where  not 
even  the  sound  of  a  voice  could  come. 

After  countless  miles  of  voyaging,  Una  came  to 
where  there  was  light.  It  penetrated  her  eyelids. 
And  though  for  a  while  she  still  lay  with  closed  eyes, 
yet  she  knew  the  time  had  come  for  her  to  wake. 
Presently  she  opened  her  eyes. 

She  was  wide  awake,  immensely  refreshed  and 
rested,  like  a  child  waking  from  a  night  of  dream- 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER         5 

less  sleep.  There  may  have  been  a  slight  languor 
of  body,  for  she  realized  with  a  content  that  stretched 
the  full  length  of  her  the  yielding  softness  of  the 
bed;  but  her  senses  were  fully  alert,  and  she  looked 
about  the  spacious  room  with  pleasure  and  interest. 
It  was  quite  plainly  a  woman's  room,  and  the  room 
of  a  dainty  woman,  too.  Una  followed  every  detail 
of  its  arrangement  with  approval  —  the  cream 
wicker-paneled  bed  in  which  she  lay,  the  triple-mirror 
dressing-table  that  stood  well  to  the  middle  of  the 
room,  the  polished  floor  and  delicately  tinted  rugs, 
the  ivory  panels  and  exquisite  vining  morning- 
glories  of  the  walls,  and  the  softly  flowered  drapings 
edging  the  big  windows.  How  more  than  satisfying 
life  must  be  with  such  surroundings!  she  thought. 

Before  the  window  sat  a  nurse,  reading.  She  had 
not  noticed  Una's  reentrance  into  the  world  of 
things,  and  Una  made  no  effort  to  enlighten  her. 
She  lay  idly  for  a  while,  enjoying  to  the  full  the 
delights  of  absolute  repose.  Then  she  considered 
the  nurse  again,  and  presently,  studying  this  starched, 
professional  presence,  it  was  borne  in  on  her  that 
she  had  forgotten  to  investigate  herself.  She  won- 
dered whimsically  whether  she  were  broken  some- 
where, or  supposed  to  be  ill.  She  certainly  felt  well 
enough  —  not  a  single  ache  nor  pain.  Gently,  be- 
neath the  covers,  she  tested  each  hand,  each  foot, 
and  sensed  the  comfortable  length  of  her  spine.  All 
was  easy  obedience.  She  turned  her  head  from  side 


6         IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

to  side  —  and  then  froze  into  a  very  paralysis  of 
bewilderment. 

On  the  pillow  beside  her  right  cheek,  and  quite 
evidently  depending  from  her  own  scalp,  lay  a  shin- 
ing braid  of  hair — warm,  sunny  hair,  shot  through 
with  glints  of  red  and  gold.  It  was  at  least  twice 
the  length  and  thickness  of  Una's  hair,  and  about  as 
much  like  it  as  sunlight  is  like  shade,  for  Una's  hair 
had  been  nearly  black.  She  stared  at  it  fixedly  for 
a  moment.  Then,  yielding  to  a  quick  instinct  of 
fear,  closed  her  eyes  and  retreated  suddenly  into 
darkness  again.  Even  before  she  had  time  to  think 
a  trembling  horror  seized  her.  Perhaps,  after  all, 
her  brain  had  been  injured,  and  hereafter  illusions 
would  be  with  her.  And  illusions  were  the  begin- 
ning of  insanity.  She  shivered  and  shut  the  lids 
still  more  tightly  over  her  eyes.  She  tried  to  calm 
herself,  to  reason.  Perhaps  she  had  been  dreaming. 
The  room  and  the  nurse  —  it  must  be  all  a  dream. 
She  opened  her  eyes  gently  and  was  bitterly  disap- 
pointed. Every  one  of  the  unfamiliar  objects  was 
still  there;  she  could  not  even  delude  herself  into 
believing  it  was  a  dream.  She  backed  into  darkness 
and  safety  again.  Perhaps  she  had  been  ill  a  long 
time,  and  that  hair  had  grown  out.  Sometimes,  per- 
haps, it  did —  She  opened  her  eyes  and  spoke. 
The  idea  of  the  dream  was  still  upon  her,  and  she 
put  so  much  unnecessary  effort  into  the  speech  im- 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER        7 

pulse  that  the  words  fairly  burst  out.  The  nurse 
jumped  as  if  she  had  been  shot  and  hurried  to  the 
bedside.  A  glance  at  Una's  face,  however,  seemed 
to  reassure  her.  She  smiled,  a  pleasant,  professional 
smile. 

"  Well,  you  've  wakened.  Feeling  almost  your- 
self again?  " 

"  Yes,  thank  you.     How  long  have  I  been  here  ?  " 

"  Oh,  just  since  last  night.  Don't  you  re- 
member ?  " 

"  No-o.     Why  did  you-  bring  me  here?  " 

From  her  expression  the  nurse  evidently  consid- 
ered that  a  somewhat  foolish  question.  "  Well,  you 
were  unconscious,  of  course.  But  there  seemed  ab- 
solutely no  injury  done,  no  need  to  take  you  to  a 
hospital.  And  so  —  they  brought  you  home." 

Home!  Last  night!  Una  closed  her  eyes  again, 
while  a  wave  of  sick  apprehension  passed  over  her. 
What  terrible  muddle  was  it  ?  And  yet  she  could  re- 
member the  accident  —  every  detail  of  it. 

"  What  —  how  —  ?  Were  the  others  hurt  ?  "  she 
asked,  and  her  voice  sounded  sweeter  and  rounder 
than  usual,  even  in  spite  of  her  fears. 

"  Well,  not  much,  considering.  The  lady  in  the 
other  car  had  her  collar-bone  fractured.  And  she 
may  have  internal  injuries;  they  don't  know  yet. 
The  —  the  gentleman  with  you  " —  Una  could  al- 
most believe  the  nurse  looked  prim  as  she  said  this  — 


8         IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

"  had  his  wrist  rather  badly  sprained.  But  no  one 
was  very  seriously  hurt,  I  guess.  It  was  really  a 
very  lucky  accident." 

Una  closed  her  eyes,  and  turned  her  head  away. 
She  was  entirely  lost,  entirely  at  sea.  She  could  not 
even  think.  There  seemed  to  be  no  starting-place 
from  which  to  begin  to  think. 

As  she  lay,  panting  internally  as  it  were,  there 
came  a  knock  at  the  door.  The  nurse  went  and 
opened  it,  and  a  man's  deep  voice  spoke  as  the  owner 
thereof  evidently  entered  the  room.  "  Well,  nurse, 
how  is  she  now  ?  " 

"  Excellent,"  replied  the  nurse,  as  both  approached 
the  bedside.  "  She  woke  up  a  moment  ago  and 
spoke  to  me.  She  was  quite  normal.  Just  a  little 
languid,  perhaps,  from  the  shock,  but  otherwise  per- 
fectly normal." 

"  That 's  good,"  said  the  man's  voice.  It  was  a 
very  agreeable,  well-bred  voice.  And  —  so  much 
can  one  judge  from  a  voice  when  intuitive  attention 
is  not  divided  by  visual  consideration  —  Una  in- 
stinctively knew  that  the  man  uttering  those  tones 
was  master  of  himself  and  the  life  he  lived.  Also, 
she  thought  she  detected  a  faintly  tired  note,  the  echo 
of  a  spirit  disappointed  somewhere.  "  Well,  you 
had  better  remain  with  her  until  she  herself  tells  you 
what  she  wishes  done." 

Una  felt  that  he  stood  and  looked  at  her  a  mo- 
ment longer;  and  she  lay  like  a  frightened  fugitive 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER         9 

behind  the  wall  of  her  tightly  closed  eyelids.  Then 
he  went,  and  she  heard  the  nurse  go  back  to  her 
seat. 

She  lay  for  a  while,  trying  desperately  not  to 
think.  But  thoughts  came  trooping,  crowding,  like 
frightened  multitudes  coming  to  view  a  tragedy. 
Presently,  almost  as  frightened  of  the  internal  state 
as  she  was  of  the  exterior,  Una  opened  her  eyes 
again.  The  nurse  noticed  this  and  came  back  to  the 
bedside. 

"  Mr.  Leland  came  in  to  see  you  a  few  minutes 
ago." 

"  Yes  ?  "     Una  was  almost  sullenly  unresponsive. 

"  Yes.     You-  had  fallen  asleep  again." 

As  this  was  stating  an  apparently  obvious  fact, 
Una  made  no  reply.  She  felt  hunted,  wary,  like  a 
fugitive  hiding  in  a  strange  house.  And  that,  out 
of  the  chaos  and  turmoil  of  her  feelings,  was  as  yet 
the  only  impression  definite  enough  to  produce  any 
resultant  action.  She  was  distrustful  of  the  nurse, 
too,  of  the  faint  intimation  of  something  withheld  in 
her  manner.  She  closed  her  eyes  again. 


CHAPTER  II 

UNA  was  glad  when  the  nurse,  after  vainly  try- 
ing to  tempt  her  patient  with  proposed  deli- 
cacies, went  down  to  luncheon.  She  was  glad  to  be 
rid,  if  only  for  half  an  hour,  of  what  she  felt  to  be 
a  watchful  presence.  When  the  woman  returned  to 
the  room,  she  kept  her  head  steadily  averted. 

Toward  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  Una  yielded 
to  a  desire  that  embodied  both  fear  and  fascination. 
She  wanted  to  remain  in  bed.  Tucked  under  the 
clothes,  with  her  eyes  shut,  she  felt  safer  from  in- 
spection and  detection.  Yet  she  was  conscious  of 
an  ever-growing,  more  urgent  impulse  to  rise  and 
look  in  that  triple  mirror  to  see  who  she  was.  Or 
was  it  she?  What  would  it  show?  Una  slowly 
passed  her  hand  from  the  strange  luxuriant  hair  over 
her  forehead,  the  bridge  of  the  nose,  and  the  mouth, 
down  to  the  chin.  Were  these  really  her  features? 
She  shivered  with  nervous  fear  and  the  watchful 
nurse  looked  up  inquiringly. 

"  I  think  I  shall  get  up." 

"  And  dress  ?  "  inquired  the  nurse.  "  Or  just  for 
the  bedroom  ?  " 

"Just  for  the  bedroom,"  replied  Una.  Sitting 
on  the  edge  of  the  bed,  she  surveyed  unaccustomed 

10 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER       n 

feet  with  wonder,  a  queer  satisfaction,  and  dismay. 
They  were  slender  feet,  beautifully  kept  —  feet  that 
no  girl  might  object  to  owning.  But  Una  looked 
at  them  with  distrust  and  dislike,  as  the  feet  of  an- 
other brought  into  close  contact  with  herself.  And 
then  she  noticed  for  the  first  time  that  she  had  new 
and  strange  rings  on  her  hands :  a  slender  wedding- 
ring  —  Una's  eyes  grew  wide  as  she  looked  at  it  — 
and  a  half -hoop  of  diamonds ;  and  on  her  right  hand 
a  pearl  marquise  —  a  large,  wonderfully  lovely  pearl, 
surrounded  with  diamonds. 

Meanwhile  the  nurse  opened  a  door  paneled  with 
a  full-length  mirror,  inspected  the  contents  of  the 
spacious  closet  for  a  minute,  and  selected  a  loose 
negligee  of  pretty  flowered  crepe  and  lace. 

"  I  wonder  whether  this  will  be  warm  enough," 
she  deliberated  as  she  came  across  the  floor  with  the 
garment  held  critically  up  before  her. 

Una  nodded.  "  Yes.  I  shall  slip  it  over  my 
nightgown." 

The  nurse  helped  her  to  put  the  negligee  on,  pro- 
duced a  pair  of  fur-topped  slippers  from  somewhere, 
and  Una  stood  up.  She  felt  perfectly  safe  on  her 
feet  and  walked  unhesitatingly  to  the  dressing-table. 
She  sat  down  before  it,  inhaled  sharply,  and  raised 
her  eyes. 

Before  her  she  saw  other  eyes,  wide,  solemn, 
dilated  —  eyes  that  stared  into  hers  and  besought. 
She  saw  a  finely  sculptured  face,  with  curved,  pas- 


12        IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

sionate  lips,  tightly  closed  now,  as  though  forcibly 
to  keep  something  back.  Quietly,  almost  rigidly, 
Una  looked  for  a  moment  or  so;  then,  leaning  her 
arms  on  the  table,  she  suddenly  covered  her  face 
with  her  hands  and  blotted  out  the  vision. 

"Aren't  you  feeling  well,  Mrs.  Leland?"  came 
the  anxious  voice  of  the  nurse  behind  her.  With  a 
quick  stab  of  fear  and  caution,  Una  was  recalled  to 
herself,  and  saved  from  the  attack  of  grief  and  ter- 
ror  about  to  overwhelm  her. 

"  Oh,  yes ;  I  'm  all  right,  thank  you."  Una  knew 
that  her  voice,  coming  in  answer  to  so  civil  and 
harmless  a  question,  sounded  curt  and  strange.  She 
forced  herself  to  rise  and  leave  the  fascinating  mir- 
ror without  another  glance.  To  stay  before  it  was 
to  betray  at  least  the  fact  of  something  unusual. 

She  walked  to  a  deep,  cretonne-upholstered  chair 
and  sat  down.  In  all  that  she  did  just  now  Una 
hardly  seemed  dependent  upon  either  her  will  or  her 
reason.  She  was  impelled,  hypnotized  into  right 
action  by  the  pursuing,  sickening  fear  of  being  ad- 
judged insane. 

From  the  chair  she  looked  through  the  window 
upon  an  unusually  beautiful  suburban  garden. 
With  a  certain  faint  sense  of  rest  Una's  troubled 
eyes  followed  the  green  lawn  spaces  into  shady  cor« 
ners,  where,  between  piled,  mossy  stones  ferns  were 
growing.  Contemplating  these  beauty  spots,  Una 
forgot  her  sorrows  for  a  moment.  But  they  re- 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER       13 

turned,  almost  swooping  on  her,  as  it  were;  and 
with  an  unconscious  gesture  of  weariness  she  turned 
her  eyes  from  the  garden  to  meet  those  of  the  nurse 
intently  watching  her  face.  Out  of  the  depths  of 
an  unreasoning  and  unreasoned  resentment,  Una 
returned  the  woman's  gaze  "with  a  cool  stare.  With 
unbroken  professional  calm  the  nurse's  eyes  traveled 
from  Una's  face  to  the  bed  from  which  she  had 
lately  risen,  and  getting  up  in  a  matter-of-fact  way, 
she  went  over  to  throw  it  wide  open. 

Una  turned  over  in  her  mind  the  best  way  of 
getting  rid  of  the  nurse.  Though  in  the  utmost 
extreme  of  nervousness  and  bewilderment,  in  a 
chaos  of  fears  and  apprehensions,  Una  still  could 
plan  for  her  own  safety.  Paradoxically  speak- 
ing, the  only  period  of  rest  from  strain  that  her 
brain  apparently  knew  was  when  scheming  to  find 
an  explanation  or  a  way  out.  So  now  she  consid- 
ered the  nurse  problem.  She  did  not  know  how  the 
woman  would  be  paid,  nor  even  who  would  pay 
her.  She  held  her  breath  when  she  thought  of  the 
man  who  had  come  to  see  her.  The  nurse  called  him 
Mr.  Leland,  and  her  Mrs.  Leland.  Again  from 
Una's  heart  welled  the  silent  cry  that  in  the  last  few 
hours  had  risen  so  often:  "Oh,  what  shall  I  do? 
Where  shall  I  turn  ?  Where  can  I  go  ?  " 

The  nurse  came  back  to  the  window-seat,  remark- 
ing upon  the  pleasant  outlook  provided  by  the  gar- 
den beneath.  Una  answered  perfunctorily  and  be- 


14        IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

gan  the  diplomatic  task  of  trying  to  rid  herself  of 
her  unwelcome  attendant  in  a  pleasant  and  natural 
manner. 

"  There  won't  be  the  least  necessity  for  your  re- 
maining with  me  to-night,  nurse.  I  'm  perfectly 
myself.  And  I  suppose  you  were  up  the  whole  of 
last  night." 

"  Oh,  yes.  It  was  necessary  to  watch  you,"  re- 
plied the  nurse.  "  But  I  thought  perhaps  I  had  bet- 
ter find  a  way  of  getting  some  sleep  in  here  for  an- 
other night,  until  we  are  quite  sure  — " 

"  I  am  already  quite  sure  that  I  am  perfectly 
right,"  said  Una  quickly.  "  And  who  should  know 
better  than  I  ? "  Usually  controlled  and  patient, 
she  felt  her  temper  slipping  unaccountably.  "  Go 
and  find  a  real  bed,  and  get  a  good  night's  sleep." 

This  was  obviously  to  the  nurse's  liking.  "  There 
is  a  spare  bedroom  across  the  hall  — " 

"  Yes.  Is  the  bed  made  up?  "  inquired  Una  with 
diplomatic  coolness. 

"  It  appears  to  be.     And  if  not  — " 

"  Yes."  Again  with  a  deceptive  resource  and 
facility  that  she  felt  were  previously  foreign  to 
her,  Una  passed  her  hand  over  her  eyes  as  if  too 
preoccupied  and  weary  for  detail.  "  Arrange  things 
to  suit  yourself  and  be  comfortable.  When  you  go 
down  to  breakfast  in  the  morning  — " 

"  Oh,  I  shall  come  in  to  see  you  before  doing 
that." 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER       15 

"Very  well.     And  then—" 

"  Well,  then,  if  you  no  longer  need  me,  I  can 
make  my  report  to  Mr.  Leland,"  hazarded  the  nurse. 

"Yes.  That  will  be  all  right."  Una  tried  to 
curb  into  politeness  her  determination  to  be  rid  of 
this  watchful,  professional  presence.  "  Now  go 
and  take  a  walk.  Some  fresh  air  will  improve  your 
night's  sleep." 

The  nurse  smiled  and  rose. 

When  she  had  been  safely  away  a  few  minutes 
Una,  fascinated  by  the  mirror  and  yet  afraid  to  face 
it,  explored  the  room  she  was  in.  She  peered  into 
the  wardrobe  closet,  filled  with  delicate  and  appar- 
ently rich  clothing,  and  opened  drawers  full  of 
woman's  belongings,  glancing  in  furtively  as.  if  ex- 
pecting the  rightful  owner  to  appear  and  resent  the 
impertinence.  She  opened  the  door  into  a  tasteful, 
square  hallway,  glanced  down  the  staircase,  and 
noiselessly  withdrew  in  a  panic.  She  tried  another 
door  and  found  herself  in  a  handsomely  appointed 
bath-room.  Facing  her,  another  door  led  out  of 
this  room.  This  one,  too,  after  listening  nervously 
and  intently  for  a  few  seconds,  Una  opened.  She 
looked  into  another  bedroom,  more  plainly  and 
massively  fitted  than  the  one  she  was  in,  and  lacking 
the  feminine  quality.  It  was,  even  to  her  uninitiated 
gaze,  a, man's  room.  Moreover,  her  wandering  eyes 
discovered  on  the  solid-looking  bureau  a  case  of 
military  brushes  and  a  man's  collar.  With  a  raprdly 


16        IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

beating  heart  Una  returned  softly  to  her  room  and 
locked  the  door  connecting  it  with  the  bath-room. 

And  then  she  crept  back  to  the  mirror.  She 
gazed  and  gazed  at  the  sweet  face  that  rose  to  meet 
her ;  only  when  she  began  to  feel  that  it  was  hypno- 
tizing her,  that  she  was  losing  hold  of  herself  and 
all  that  she  knew,  could  she  force  herself  to  rise 
and  go  out  of  the  reach  of  that  magic  reflection. 

Before  Una  could  finally  lock  her  door  on  all  the 
world  and  face  the  night  she  longed  for  and  yet 
dreaded,  she  had  to  endure  a  visit  from  the  doctor 
and  the  nurse.  The  doctor  wisely  opined  that  she 
was  still  somewhat  excitable  and  feverish  as  a  result 
of  the  shock,  but  that  a  few  days'  quiet  would  doubt- 
less bring  everything  back  to  normal.  In  the  mean- 
time, if  she  felt  the  least  discomfort  mentally  or 
physically  she  was  to  summon  him,  and  in  any  case 
he  would  drop  in  again  in  the  course  of  a  day  or  so. 

She  allowed  the  nurse  to  put  her  to  bed.  She 
could  think  as  well  there  as  anywhere  —  if  she  could 
think  at  all. 

When  the  last  enemy,  for  so  they  all  seemed,  had 
departed,  she  was  left  not  in  peace  but  at  least 
alone. 


CHAPTER  III 

IT  would  not  have  been  strange  if  this  first  night 
under  the  new  and  amazing  condition  of  her  be- 
ing had  really  driven  Una  into  that  state  of  in- 
sanity she  so  much  dreaded.  No  victim  of  delirium 
ever  faced  a  night  of  more  terrifying  unreality,  in- 
security, and  loneliness.  She  could  not  think;  for 
to  think  one  must  have  some  safe  and  accepted  — 
or  at  least  accepted  —  premise  from  which  to  start. 
She  had  none.  Nothing  was  left  upon  which  to 
stand  and  take  a  perspective.  Nothing  was  left  of 
the  life  she  thought  she  had  known  and  she  could 
form  no  concept  of  a  new  one,  for  she  had  nothing 
upon  which  to  base  a  concept.  She  was  in  the  midst 
of  a  grotesque  and  horrifying  nightmare,  in  which 
everything  she  looked  upon  suddenly  overturned 
and  was  something  else,  and  in  which  she  herself  was 
at  once  the  nightmare  and  the  subject  thereof.  She 
was  absolutely  alone.  She  dared  go  to  none. 
Neither  was  there  any  place  to  which  she  could  go. 
She  must  stay  and  face  —  what  ? 

She  did  not  know  who  she  was,  or  what  she  was. 
If  her  brain  had  been  injured,  and  the  past  was  all 
gone,  why  did  she  remember  anything?  Why  was 
part  of  life  familiar  and  the  rest  strange?  It  was 

17 


18       IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

always  written  of  those  who  had  sustained  complete 
loss  of  memory  that  their  minds  were  a  blank.  But 
she  wondered.  Were  they  always?  Perhaps  some 
kept  silence  from  fear,  as  she  was  doing.  And 
then  again,  perhaps  some  tried  to  tell  of  their 
changed  mental  states  and  thereby  doomed  them- 
selves to  the  insane  asylum.  Grimly  it  floated 
through  her  mind  that  asjlums  held  many  a  tragedy 
that  stupid  medical  psychology  failed  even  to  sus- 
pect. 

Once  or  twice  Una  gravely  considered  whether 
after  all  she  might  not  be  really  insane.  And  yet 
she  felt  she  would  be  most  completely  and  sanely 
equipped  if  once  she  could  decide  —  or  could  be 
shown  —  upon  what  personality  to  take  a  stand. 

As  the  sounds,  the  noises  of  the  street,  died  away, 
from  very  excess  of  thinking  she  suddenly  ceased 
to  think  at  all.  She  lapsed  into  a  boundless  sea  of 
immensity,  in  which  she  seemed  but  a  point  of  con- 
sciousness. But  that  point  included  all  that  had  been 
or  could  be,  and  she  felt  confident  and  very  much 
at  peace. 

So  very  vague  did  her  hold  on  things,  and  even 
on  herself,  become,  that,  recalled  from  time  to  time 
by  some  slight  movement  or  contact  with  the  bed- 
clothing,  she  roused  sufficiently  to  feel  faint  alarm. 
Finally  she  forced  herself  to  rise  and  sit  up  in  bed. 
And  so  she  sat,  staring  into  the  partial  darkness 
of  the  starry  April  night. 


'IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER       19 

More  to  gather  into  some  sort  of  focus  the  merg- 
ing, shifting  states  of  her  consciousness,  she  delib- 
erately set  herself  to  recall  the  scene  in  the  office 
before  the  accident.  And  although  already  it  seemed 
but  a  scene  that  she  could  recall,  with  great  ease  and 
in  perfect  detail,  still  she  sensed  all  the  life  that  lay 
back  of  that  scene. 

So  easy  was  it  in  spirit  to  enter  that  office  that 
immediately  she  was  back,  sitting  before  her  type- 
writer. It  was  a  little  past  office  hours  and  her  em- 
ployer had  explained  that  he  would  have  to  de- 
tain her  somewhat,  but  that  to  make  up  for  lost 
time  he  would  afterward  run  her  home  in  the  ma- 
chine. Now  she  was  waiting  the  completion  of 
the  transaction,  the  closing  of  which  would  need  a 
little  of  her  work.  She  had  an  idea  that  her  mother 
would  have  supper  ready,  and  would  be  chafing  at 
the  delay.  But  that  could  not  be  helped. 

She  was  resting  now,  while  she  waited.  She 
was  very  tired.  Her  hands  were  folded,  and  so 
great  was  the  veritable  hypnosis  of  repose  into  which 
she  had  fallen  that  the  keys  of  the  typewriter  before 
her  were  a  blurred  mass.  Life  lay  behind  her  like 
a  dead  weight.  She  did  not  think  of  it,  but  merely 
sensed  the  weight.  It  was  a  woman's  life,  not  a 
girl's  —  never  had  been  a  girl's.  Girls  had  parties 
and  love-affairs;  and  bought  things  because  they 
were  pretty  and  not  always  because  they  were  use- 
ful. 


20       IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

As  relaxation  became  more  complete  the  rebel- 
lious thoughts  faded.  So  great  was  her  abstrac- 
tion that  even  her  employer's  entrance  with  papers 
for  typewritten  inserts  failed  fully  to  rouse  her.  It 
seemed  to  her  that  the  brains  in  her  skilful  fingers 
did  the  work. 

Then  she  went  down  and  got  into  her  employer's 
machine,  which  slid  off  with  the  silent  speed  of  a 
greyhound.  The  street  and  office  lights  were 
twinkling  out,  but  daylight  still  somewhat  over- 
powered them.  Una  sat  and  with  hardly  awakened 
interest  watched  the  different  vehicles  approach  and 
speed  by. 

Suddenly  one  of  the  big  machines  swerved,  sprang 
into  the  air  and,  like  a  beast  of  prey,  leaped  upon 
her. 

So  much  she  remembered.  When  she  tried  to  go 
back  of  this,  her  brain  reeled  with  sudden  impotence 
or  fatigue,  and  when  she  went  forward  in  her 
thoughts  and  began  to  wonder  about  the  body  that 
had  been  hers  so  recently,  about  that  other  mystery- 
tortured  soul  that  must  now  be  hidden  there,  she 
sickened  with  the  impossible  problem  of  it  all. 

Toward  the  middle  of  the  night,  threatened  again 
with  a  panic  of  fear  and  nervousness,  she  rose  and 
turned  on  the  lights.  The  radiators  were  still  warm ; 
she  softly  closed  the  windows  and  drew  down  the 
shades.  The  light,  the  sight  of  the  solid,  everyday 
objects  comforted  her  somewhat.  She  put  on  the 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER      21 

negligee  and  seated  herself  in  the  chintz  chair.  She 
would  endure  the  darkness  no  more. 

As  morning  approached  and  the  magnifying  in- 
fluences of  the  night  upon  the  emotions  were  grad- 
ually withdrawn,  the  fever  in  her  brain  died  down. 
Worn  with  her  frantic  endeavors  to  think,  Una  let 
go,  and  of  her  own  volition  tried  to  think  no  more. 
And  then  it  seemed  as  if,  strengthened  by  her  pas- 
sivity, her  brain  began  to  scheme  of  its  own  accord 
for  the  safety,  mental  and  physical,  of  the  entity 
she  then  presented.  It  was  borne  in  upon  her  that 
it  was  useless,  hopeless,  to  try  to  grasp  in  its  en- 
tirety the  puzzle  confronting  her.  And  as  from  the 
very  first  her  most  distinct  feeling  had  been  that 
of  a  fugitive,  so  now  her  strongest  anxiety  was  to 
hide,  and  hide  safely.  She  reflected  and  realized 
with  growing  relief  that  none  could  actually  pene- 
trate the  wall  of  flesh  behind  which  she  hid.  It 
would  be  like  living  behind  a  glass  mask  through 
which  she  could  see  and  they  could  not.  She  might 
often  imagine  they  could,  but  they  really  could  not. 
If  she  never  told  any  mortal  being  the  secret  of  what 
had  happened  to  her,  none  could  ever  guess.  She 
must  never  forget  that  the  only  clue  any  one  could 
have  to  the  way  things  appeared  to  her  was  what- 
ever clue  she  herself  chose  to  afford. 

To  this  shortened  statement  of  the  logic  of  the 
situation  she  clung  as  to  the  one  plank  of  her  sal- 
vation. Over  and  over  again  she  formulated  it  in 


22       IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

so  many  actual  words.  "  If  I  never  tell,  they  can 
never  know.  And  if  they  don't  know  what  I  think, 
they  can't  think  me  insane." 

So  soothing  to  the  nerves  is  the  effect  of  words 
or  a  statement  quietly  and  persistently  repeated, "that 
presently  Una  began  to  feel  almost  comforted.  She 
was  like  one  who,  having  come  breathlessly  through 
a  tunnel  of  darkness  and  horror,  at  length  reaches 
light  and  sits  down  to  breathe.  Unconsciously  she 
had  fastened  on  a  great  secret  of  power  —  concen- 
tration. Over  and  over  again  she  mentally  reiter- 
ated this  reassuring  thought :  "  They  can  only  know 
what  I  tell  them." 

Several  times,  though,  during  the  morning  par- 
oxysms of  fear  threatened  to  attack  her  again,  and 
those  wild,  chaotic  thoughts  tried  to  close  in  upon 
her. 

Perhaps  after  all  she  was  insane  and  these 
surroundings  that  seemed  so  real  were  but  a  de- 
lusion. Perhaps  she  would  not  be  allowed  to  stay 
even  where  she  now  was,  but  would  be  hurled  forth 
again  into  some  other  strange  phase  of  existence. 
Perhaps  — 

Knowing  instinctively  that  the  firm  grasp  upon 
one  clear  and  well-established  fact  was  her  only 
chance  for  mental  safety,  Una  repeated  her  formula, 
clinging  to  it  as  a  man  in  a  torrent  clings  to  a  rock. 
This  much  seemed  fairly  certain,  and  it  was  all  she 
needed  to  begin  with:  if  she  kept  strict  silence  she 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER       23 

was  safe.  Surely  there  could  never  come  a  time 
when  she  could  not  at  least  be  silent. 

Toward  seven  o'clock  Una  heard  water  running 
in  the  bath-room,  with  much  sound  of  splashing  and 
ablutionary  activity.  Soon  the  sounds  ceased;  but 
they  had  wakened  in  Una  a  great  desire  to  bathe 
and  refresh  herself.  She  listened  intently  at  her 
door.  All  was  quiet.  She  entered  the  now  empty 
bath-room  and  listened  at  the  door  of  the  man's 
room  opposite.  No  sound.  Turning  the  little 
thumb-key  that  appeared  on  both  sides  of  each  door, 
she  began  'her  own  bathing  operations.  '  The  room 
was  equipped  with  a  shower,  so  she  took  first  a  very 
hot  and  then  a  cold  one,  emerging  greatly  refreshed 
and  rested. 

Back  in  her  own  room  she  busied  herself  coiling 
up  the  long  waving  hair.  Engrossed  in  her  task 
and  delighted  with  the  beauty  of  her  hair,  she  act- 
ually forgot  her  troubles  for  the  time  being,  until 
recalled  to  herself  by  a  knock  at  the  door  she  had 
forgotten  to  unlock.  She  admitted  the  nurse. 

"  I  see  everything  is  all  right,"  said  that  pleasant 
professional  after  the  first  keen  glance.  "  Do  you 
find  any  stiffness  developing  anywhere?  " 

"  Not  at  all.  I  am  quite  myself,"  responded  Una, 
much  encouraged  by  her  own  coolness.  She  felt 
exactly  as  if  she  were  taking  a  part  in  some  play 
and  playing  the  role  successfully.  "You  haven't 
had  your  breakfast  yet,  have  you,  nurse?" 


24       IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

"  No.     I  have  just  left  my  room." 

"  Well,  have  a  good  meal  before  you  go."  She 
wondered  whether  there  was  any  one  to  cook  it  for 
her.  "  Can  you  see  to  getting  it  yourself?  " 

"  Certainly,"  she  replied,  with  the  pleasant  smile 
that  seemed  part  of  the  uniform.  "  Annie  will  put 
it  on  the  table  for  me,  I  'm  sure." 

Una  sat  down  before  the  mirror  again  with  a 
brave  show  of  resuming  her  hair-coiling  operations. 
No  doubt  the  nurse  would  think  it  odd  she  did  not 
tell  her  to  bring  up  her  own  breakfast  and  wait  on 
her  patient.  But  she  was  determined  not  to  have 
that.  She  was  not  going  to  have  those  experienced, 
professional  eyes  watching  her. 

The  nurse  approached  the  back  of  her  chair. 
"  Let  me  do  your  hair  for  you,  Mrs.  Leland.  It 's 
so  beautiful." 

"  No,  thank  you."  Una  laughed  nervously. 
"  I  'm  a  freak  about  my  head.  It  soothes  me  to 
brush  it  myself,  but  I  don't  like  any  one  else  to 
handle  it." 

The  nurse  retreated  with  a  smile.  "  Then  you 
are  sure  there  is  nothing  more  you  would  like  me 
to  do  for  you  ?  " 

"  Nothing,  indeed.  Thank  you  for  the  care  you 
have  taken  of  me,  nurse."  She  turned  away  with 
a  nod  of  dismissal.  "  Your  check  — " 

The  nurse  came  all  unwittingly  to  the  rescue. 
"  Mr.  Leland  is  down  already,  I  think,"  she  volun- 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER       25 

teered.  "  I  '11  speak  to  him  about  it.  Good-by." 
Having  dressed  her  hair  to  her  satisfaction,  Una 
went  on  a  search  for  suitable  morning  attire.  In 
the  closet,  ivory-paneled,  light  and  airy  as  a  room, 
she  found  everything  that  the  heart  of  woman  could 
desire  —  except  plain  house  clothing.  She  opened 
a  hat  cupboard  containing  seven  or  eight  costly  hats, 
and  in  deep  drawers  underneath  this  she  found  lin- 
gerie and  underwear  calculated  to  fill  any  feminine 
eyes  with  delight.  On  the  hanger  rails,  mingled 
with  gowns,  coats  and  negligees,  were  petticoats  of 
many  and  various  shades  and  fabrics. 

Una  turned  over  the  contents  of  the  drawers  with 
a  pleasure  that  was  not  unmixed.  She  could  not 
shake  off  that,  furtive,  dishonorable  feeling  as  of  one 
who  pries  secretly  into  the  belongings  of  another. 
Hastily  but  more  or  less  completely  she  investigated 
the  contents  of  the  big  closet  and  came  finally  to 
the  conclusion  that  the  former  owner,  though  dainty 
and  most  essentially  feminine  in  all  the  details  of 
her  apparel,  had  been,  to  Una's  way  of  thinking,  a 
little  given  to  over-elaboration  and  richness.  From 
the  wide  choice  at  her  disposal  she  was  able  to  find 
underwear  pretty  much  to  her  taste;  but  nowhere 
could  she  discover  anything  at  all  approaching  her 
idea  of  a  morning  house  dress.  Finally  Una  took 
the  plainest  gown  she  could  find,  a  smoke-gray  cloth. 
In  the  smooth-rolling  drawers  of  the  dressing-table 
she  found,  among  an  astonishingly  varied  and  much- 


26        IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

tossed-over  collection  of  neckwear,  a  fichu  collar  of 
embroidered  muslin.  It  made  a  pretty  and  demure 
finish  to  her  toilette. 

When  she  was  ready  to  go  down,  Una  stood  a 
minute  with  her  hand  on  the  door-knob.  Already 
the  room  she  was  in  had  become  somewhat  familiar, 
had  begun  to  have  a  friendly  aspect.  It  was  all 
she  knew.  She  was  going  down  to  she  knew  not 
whom  or  what.  However,  out  of  dire  extremity 
a  certain  grim  courage  is  always  born.  The  very 
lack  of  choice  which  an  extremity  presents  is  in  it- 
self a  strength,  as  all  forces  are  marshaled  to  meet 
the  one  course  possible.  So,  mentally  repeating  her 
resolution  to  maintain  at  all  costs  silence  as  to  that 
almost  unbelievable  thing  which  had  happened,  Una 
began  her  descent  of  the  staircase. 


CHAPTER  IV 

HALF-WAY  down,  the  stairs  opened  upon  a 
square,  continuing  at  a  different  angle. 
From  the  square,  through  leaded  glass,  Una  looked 
down  into  what  appeared  to  be  a  morning-  or  sun- 
room.  It  was  long  and  rather  narrow,  mostly  glass 
overgrown  with  vines,  with  a  brown-stone  fountain 
urn  and  basin  at  one  end.  At  the  farther  end,  his 
breakfast  on  a  small  table  beside  him,  sat  a  man  read- 
ing a  newspaper.  Una  glanced  at  him,  obtaining  a 
fleeting  impression  of  graceful  outline  and  ease  of 
attitude,  and  looked  involuntarily  down  at  the  nar- 
row gold  band  on  her  finger.  Undoubtedly  this 
man  was  her  husband,  whoever  she  was,  and  Una's 
eyes  grew  wide  at  the  thought.  She  grasped  the 
wall  to  steady  herself.  However,  she  had  decided 
at  dawn  that  it  would  be  madness  to  attempt  to 
forecast  the  probable  outcome  of  anything  that 
presented  itself  just  now.  She  must  strictly  keep 
all  her  wits  at  home  and  focused  on  the  happening 
of  each  hour.  Hour !  Each  moment,  almost. 

She  went  down  the  remaining  stairs  and  stepped 
into  a  large  and  exceedingly  pleasant  living-room. 
Almost  all  one  side  of  it  was  taken  up  by  wide  win- 

27 


28       IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

dows;  at  one  end  was  a  large  red  granite  fireplace; 
near  her  were  quaint  sliding  doors  of  leaded  glass, 
through  which  a  well-appointed  dining-room  could 
be  seen.  A  few  handsome  rugs  on  the  hardwood 
floor,  a  piano,  a  library  table,  and  chairs  of  many 
and  inviting  shapes  constituted  about  all  the  furnish- 
ings of  the  room.  But  the  dark  woodwork  and 
the  hangings  were  so  harmoniously  subdued  that 
the  room  seemed  a  picture  of  deep-toned  beauty. 

Una  felt  exactly  like  a  guest  going  to  breakfast 
after  a  first  night's  sleep  in  a  strange  house.  She 
had  to  fight  the  inclination  to  sit  down  and  wait  for 
some  one  to  come  and  greet  her.  Instead,  after 
giving  herself  a  moment's  grace,  she  walked  res- 
olutely toward  the  small  archway  leading  from  the 
farther  end  of  the  living-room  into  the  morning- 
room  and  into  the  presence  of  the  master  of  the 
house.  He  heard  her  coming  and  quietly  put  aside 
his  paper.  Evidently  he  was  not  the  man  who  had 
been  with  her  in  the  car,  for  both  this  man's  wrists 
were  uninjured. 

Forgetting  for  the  moment  to  be  other  than  cu- 
rious, Una  saw  how  nearly  from  the  sound  of  his 
voice  last  night,  and  the  manner  of  his  spoken  words, 
her  intuition  had  been  able  to  outline  the  owner. 
She  saw  all  that  she  had  somehow  expected  to  see, 
even  felt  that  she  had  expected  to  meet  the  direct 
and  exceedingly  discerning  glance  bent  on  her. 

He  looked  her  over.     The  night  had  left  faint 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER       29 

blue  shadows  beneath  the  wide,  eager  eyes' ;  a  fever 
spot  of  color  was  still  on  each  cheek,  and  the  vivid, 
full-engined  body  was  languid  after  the  night's 
struggle.  All  this  increased  the  essentially  feminine 
charm  of  her,  but  Una  was  entirely  unconscious  of 
any  such  effect.  Instead  she  was  rapidly  revolving 
in  her  mind  the  obvious  necessity  of  saying  some- 
thing. As  the  man  before  her  was  a  total  stranger, 
this  was  decidedly  a  puzzle.  However,  she  decided 
that  the  usual  morning  greeting  would  be  safe  and 
non-committal.  With  an  embarrassed  smile  and  a 
still  more  embarrassed  walk  she  approached  the 
table. 

"  Good  morning." 

"  Good  morning,  Elsie,"  he  replied,  drawing  a 
chair  forward  for  her.  "  Are  you  feeling  quite 
yourself  again?  " 

"  Quite,  thank  you,"  she  answered,  seating  her- 
self. 

He  sat  and  looked  at  her,  detecting  a  difference 
in  her  manner.  Nothing  else,  of  course,  would 
have  been  possible.  The  very  concentration  which 
Una  was  bringing  to  bear  on  the  situation  was  a 
force  emanating  from  her,  and  contradicting  all 
the  man  knew  and  expected  of  this  woman  who  was 
—  and  was  not  —  his  wife.  Having  absolutely  no 
clue  to  the  real  state  of  affairs,  Leland  sought  for 
an  explanation  in  some  assurance  which  circum- 
stances might  have  given  her. 


30       IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

"  And  so,"  he  went  on  then,  "  Nemesis  did  not 
overtake  you  this  time." 

He  referred,  Una  did  not  doubt,  to  the  accident 
of  the  night  before.  And  also,  quite  apparently,  to 
much  more;  but  of  that  she  could  not  even  guess. 
"  Would  you  call  it  an  overtaking?  "  she  parried  in 
reply. 

"  I  suppose  not  —  literally."  He  pointed  to  the 
paper  on  the  floor  beside  him.  "  I  see  Renshaw  has 
been  able  to  keep  it  out  of  the  papers.  That  is 
rather  easy  for  him,  anyway.  But  where  do  you 
consider  I  stand  in  the  matter?" 

Una  looked  at  him  in  silence.  She  could  not 
possibly  make  any  safe  reply. 

"  I  mean,"  he  went  on,  "  in  respect  to  what  I 
once  told  you  about  bringing  my  name  into  actual 
public  disfavor.  Do  you  remember?" 

Una  made  answer  what  was  for  her  the  truth. 
"  No,  I  don't  remember  what  you  particularly  refer 
to." 

"  I  think  you  do,"  Leland  contradicted  quietly. 
"  I  told  you  that  the  first  time  you  made  a  public 
parade  of  my  name  I  should  banish  at  once  the  re- 
luctance I  feel  at  giving  a  woman  the  first  actual 
turn  into  the  downward  path.  Not  to  mince  mat- 
ters, that  I  should  begin  divorce  proceedings.  I 
suppose  you  '11  say  that  my  name  has  n't  been 
paraded  yet.  It  has  n't  • —  in  print." 

He  paused,  as  if  expecting  her  to  make  some  re- 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER         31 

ply.  But  it  was  impossible  for  Una  to  speak.  She 
was  expected  to  take  up  the  thread  of  a  story  she 
knew  nothing  of.  His  words,  however,  conveyed  a 
great  deal  to  her  shamed,  intent  understanding. 
Some  of  the  terror  and  helplessness  of  the  night  re- 
turned to  her.  What  was  going  to  become  of  her, 
after  all  ? 

''  You  have  always  ridiculed  what  you  were 
pleased  to  call  my  unfounded  suspicions,"  he  went 
on  after  a  moment.  "  But  I  was  n't  suspecting  — 
I  knew.  Still,  I  let  it  go  at  that,  as  being  less  un- 
dignified on  the  whole.  But  what  are  we  going 
to  do  now  ?  We  can't  either  of  us  pretend  that  we 
don't  know  —  and  know  that  the  other  knows." 

It  was  a  direct  question  and  demanded  an  an- 
swer. Gathering  as  firm  a  grasp  of  the  situation  as 
she  could,  Una  voiced  what  seemed  to  her  the  only 
possible  course.  '  You  must  do  whatever  you  think 
best,"  she  said  gently. 

Again  Leland  looked  at  her  with  faint  curiosity 
in  his  eyes.  "  Well,  I  like  that  better  than  the  silly 
tears  and  denials  that  I  have  been  treated  to  of 
late,"  he  observed. 

Until  he  spoke,  Una,  with  all  her  perplexity  and 
trouble,  had  never  once  thought  of  tears.  But  now 
that  he  mentioned  them  she  was  conscious  of  a  sense 
of  fullness  about  the  eyes,  as  if  they  would  flood  at 
a  moment's  notice ;  and  she  was  both  surprised  and 
disgusted.  Tears  had  never  been  one  of  her  weak- 


32        IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

nesses.  However,  she  combated  the  suggestion  in 
the  best  possible  way.  She  dismissed  it,  and  turned 
her  whole  attention  to  meeting  the  odds  against 
her. 

Leland  leaned  forward  a  little,  resting  his  arm 
on  the  arm  of  the  chair  and  his  chin  on  his  hand. 

"  I  often  wonder  what  it  is  you  're  banking  on, 
Elsie.  Well,  of  course  I  know  it 's  one  of  two 
things.  Perhaps  both.  But  I  can't  account  for 
your  crediting  either.  Because  usually  you  're  no 
fool."  A  slight,  reflective  smile  was  on  his  lips,  but 
in  his  eyes  neither  resentment  nor  sadness.  He  was 
too  strong  a  man  for  either  to  last  long.  "  But  I 
suppose  that  as  long  as  a  woman  of  your  kind  can 
look  into  her  mirror  and  see  that  her  bodily  charms 
are  still  undiminished,  she  cannot  possibly  con- 
ceive of  any  man's  infatuation  waning.  Mind  and 
character  have  nothing  to  do  with  the  matter,  see- 
ing that  the  physical  was  all  that  was  ever  taken 
into  account.  I  '11  wager  " —  his  smile  deepened  — 
"  that  you  're  as  confident  as  you  are  that  you  're 
sitting  there  before  me,  that  it 's  my  still  unbroken 
infatuation  for  you  that  makes  me  so  wilfully  blind 
to  many  things.  Doubtless  you  think  I  'm  breaking 
my  heart  in  secret.  And  it 's  so  romantic !  Neither 
you  nor  your  associates  —  who  must  think  me  either 
a  great  idiot  or  a  spiritless  cur  —  could  understand 
that,  though  my  love  and  respect  for  you  are  dead, 
I  still  have  a  shade  of  respect  left  for  the  vows  I 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER        33 

took  to  protect  and  cherish  you.  I  know  your  na- 
ture ;  I  know  the  man  you  are  dealing  with.  I  know 
that  as  soon  as  I  withdraw  my  name  and  the  protec- 
tion of  my  home  from  you,  your  path  will  be  one 
steady,  even  if  slow,  descent.  I  've  seen  it  all  before. 
But  " —  his  tone  was  quieter,  more  deliberate  — 
"  don't  go  too  far.  Just  as  soon  as  I  'm  obliged  to 
take  official  cognizance,  I  shall  —  in  only  one  way. 
And  there  will  be  no  withdrawing  from  that  stand, 
once  taken." 

His  cool,  deliberate  gaze  still  rested  on  her  face, 
and  Una  returned  the  gaze,  almost  fascinated,  un- 
able, it  seemed,  to  think,  much  less  speak.  Then 
Leland  bent  over  and  picked  up  the  paper  which 
he  had  cast  loosely  on  the  ground. 

"  I  don't  believe  Annie  knows  you  're  down,"  he 
said.  "  Better  ring." 

After  Leland  had  left  the  house,  going  presum- 
ably to  his  office  or  business,  Una  remained  at  the 
table,  too  confused,  too  dazed  to  ring.  The  mael- 
strom of  her  thoughts  and  emotions  was  so  great 
that,  as  if  by  some  centrifugal  force  born  of  it,  she 
herself  seemed  in  the  center  of  the  wild  current,  mo- 
tionless, feelingless,  thoughtless. 

Presently  Annie  came  in  to  remove  the  breakfast 
dishes.  She  proved  to  be  a  strong,  competent-look- 
ing young  woman  of  probably  Swedish  or  Finnish 
extraction.  She  exclaimed  with  surprise  on  seeing 
Una,  explained  that  she  had  been  about  to  go  up 


34       IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

to  see  if  she  would  n't  like  her  breakfast  in  bed, 
and  promised  her  a  dainty  breakfast  in  a  few  min- 
utes. She  talked  as  if  to  a  spoiled  child,  and  Una's 
strained,  unnaturally  alert  perceptions  had  no  diffi- 
culty in  discovering  that  Annie  had  managed  the 
house  pretty  much  to  suit  herself,  petting  and  pamp- 
ering her  mistress  as  part  of  the  process.  Woman- 
like, a  resolution  shot  across  Una's  troubled  con- 
sciousness to  the  effect  that,  if  her  stay  in  the' house 
should  be  of  any  duration,  she  would  most  certainly 
manage  it  herself. 

In  a  few  minutes  Annie  came  back,  bringing  a 
breakfast  of  hot  toast,  eggs,  fragrant  coffee,  thick 
cream,  and  marmalade;  and  to  Una's  surprise,  in 
spite  of  her  overwrought  state,  the  sight  of  food 
was  unmistakably  pleasant.  She  ate  all  .that  the 
tray  contained  and  was  astounded  at  the  amount  she 
had  consumed.  Apparently,  however,  Annie  did 
not  share  this  surprise  when  she  came  to  take  the 
tray  away. 

Annie  had  evidently  been  in  the  confidence  of  her 
mistress.  She  talked  a  great  deal,  describing  her 
feelings  when  her  mistress  was  brought  home  un- 
conscious and  commented  on  the  affability  of  the 
nurse. 

"  You  could  talk  to  her."  she  observed.  "  Some 
of  them  are  so  stuck  up,  you  don't  dare  say  a  word 
to  them." 

Una  did  not  share  her  enthusiasm  on  the  subject. 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER       35 

She  looked  at  the  servant  so  thoughtfully  that  Annie 
decided  her  mistress  must  be  still  ill-tempered  and 
moody.  So  she  took  up  the  tray  and  went. 

The  food  seemed  to  act  as  a  tonic  to  Una. 
After  Annie  had  gone,  she  no  longer  tried  to  think 
of  everything  at  once.  Her  thoughts  cleared.  One 
subject  now  occupied  her  attention,  but  that  just 
now  seemed  the  bitterest  of  all.  It  was  Leland 
and  his  words.  As  she  thought  them  over  a  sense 
of  injustice  amounting  to  a  perfect  rage  possessed 
Una.  It  seemed  impossible  to  contemplate  seeing 
much  of  this  man  and  not  telling  him  —  insisting 
and  shouting  it  —  that  she  was  not,  and  never  could 
be,  what  he  evidently  thought  she  was.  The  fact 
that  she  was  plainly  not  going  to  be  troubled  with 
any  displays  of  conjugal  affection  failed  to  comfort 
her.  The  relief  that  this  fact  might  have  afforded 
was  swallowed  up  in  shame  and  disgust  at  the  char- 
acter he  invested  her  with  —  justly,  no  doubt,  as 
far  as  he  knew.  If  he  had  been  a  man  she  could 
dislike  it  would  have  been  easier.  But  he  was  not. 
She  liked  him. 

Seeing  that  like  and  dislike  are  not  a  matter  of 
personal  choice,  but  a  demand  made  with  mathe- 
matical precision  by  the  worth  of  the  accosting  spirit 
and  paid  willy-nilly  with  like  precision,  it  stands 
decided  that  no  man  or  woman  can  be  in  the  com- 
pany of  another  for  even  the  first  half -hour  and 
not  really  know  beyond  any  doubt  what  it  is  to  be 


36       IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

—  like  or  dislike.  Una  did  not  attempt  to  argue 
away  the  fact  that  she  liked  Leland.  She  liked  the 
level,  unwavering  glance;  the  ease  and  grace  of 
movement  that  gave  silent  assurance  of  balanced 
nerves  as  well  as  balanced  muscles;  the  calm 
strength  of  a  character  that  could  not  be  diverted 
from  its  course  by  woman's  tears  or  men's  sneers. 

Moreover,  and  this  seemed  to  give  most  of  the 
sting  to  the  situation,  Una  felt  quite  ridiculously  sure 
that  Leland  would  like  her,  too,  did  he  really  know 
her. 

Here  Una  rose  abruptly,  as  if  bringing  to  a  close 
an  unpleasant  conversation  with  herself.  She  real- 
ized very  vividly  that  much  thought  along  these 
lines  would  bring  back  the  dread  sense  of  unreality 
and  insecurity,  that  her  present  salvation  lay  in  con- 
templating and  handling  only  strictly  material 
things. 

She  went  into  the  living-room  and  investigated 
it  more  closely.  On  each  side  of  the  fireplace  wide 
bookcases  were  built  into  the  wall.  The  volumes  on 
the  shelves  announced,  as  if  with  staring  placards, 
the  diverse  characters  of  the  two  occupants  of  the 
house.  It  was  quite  plain  that  the  two  had  never 
shared  the  same  literary  tastes.  Una  divined  that 
some  fiat  of  Leland's  had  produced  so  clean  a  di- 
vision. In  the  one  case  were  engineering  works, 
mathematical  books,  encyclopaedias,  dictionaries  in 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER        37 

several  languages,  poets  and  philosophers.  Among 
these  latter  were  some  volumes  that  Una  felt  she 
was  glad  to  see.  In  the  other  case  stood  books  on 
card  games,  on  tennis,  musical  works,  and  dozens 
of  novels  by  modern  writers.  On  the  library  table 
at  one  end  of  the  room  were  heaped  indiscriminately 
fashion  papers  and  music ;  on  the  piano  stood  a  row 
of  songs,  some  good  and  some  merely  popular.  Una 
looked  lovingly  at  the  keys  of  the  instrument.  She 
had  a  feeling  that  she  played  a  little,  and  loved  music 
exceedingly.  But  she  did  not  dare  to  touch  the 
inviting  ivory  keys.  She  might  be  so  much  less  of 
a  musician  than  the  other  woman  that  they  would 
inevitably  betray  her  even  to  so  great  a  novice  in 
the  art  of  piano-playing  as  Annie  probably  was. 
So  she  turned  away  and  went  into  the  dining-room. 
She  admired  the  fine  oak  woodwork;  the  massive, 
simple  sideboard  built  boldly  out  from  the  wall; 
the  plain,  heavy-beamed  ceiling.  She  went  up  to 
the  sideboard  and  examined  each  piece  of  silver  and 
cut  glass :  pulled  doors  and  drawers  open  and  busied 
herself,  like  a  bride  in  a  newly  furnished  house,  with 
an  inspection  of  its  contents.  While  she  was  still 
engaged  in  this  fascinating  occupation,  she  was  start- 
led by  the  distant  ringing  of  a  telephone  bell. 

She  looked  round  almost  helplessly.  The  tele- 
phone was  not  in  the  room  with  her,  and  she  hur- 
ried back  into  the  living-room.  Again  it  rang. 


38       IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

Now  she  recognized  the  sound  as  coming  from  the 
morning-room.  She  reached  the  instrument  and 
automatically  placed  the  receiver  to  her  ear  before 
realizing  her  predicament. 


CHAPTER  V 

;<TS  this  Park  two-five-seven?  "  inquired  a  woman's 
A  voice. 

"  Yes,"  said  Una,  wondering  if  it  was. 

"  Is  that  you,  Elsie?  "  asked  trie  voice  dubiously. 

"  Of  course."  Una's  face  was  a  study  in  con- 
centrated attention.  It  was  as  if  her  wits  would 
reach  out  across  the  space  that  hid  her  interlocutor 
from  her. 

There  was  a  moment's  silence,  as  if  the  speaker 
detected  something  strange  in  the  voice  —  perhaps 
a  lack  of  friendliness  where  there  should  have  been 
full  and  instant  recognition.  And  then,  "  It  did  n't 
sound  a  bit  like  you." 

"  I  was  breathless.  I  ran  to  the  telephone,"  ex- 
plained Una.  She  waited.  She  could  not  say  any 
more,  had  nothing  more  to  say. 

Again  a  second's  speculative  silence.  And  then, 
in  a  slightly  lowered,  confidential  tone,  "  Are  you 
alone?  " 

"  Yes,"  answered  Una,  endeavoring  to  pattern 
her  tones  likewise. 

"  Well,  I  'm  so  awfully  glad  you  're  up  and  about. 
I  was  coming  over  anyhow  if  you  were  not.  They 
would  n't  let  me  yesterday :  Said  you  'd  be  best  left 

39 


40       IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

alone,"  went  on  the  voice.  It  was  a  charming  voice, 
with  a  quaint  little  affected  gasp  in  it.  "  How  are 
you  now?  Feeling  all  right?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,"  replied  Una.  Hastily  bethinking  her- 
self of  the  necessity  of  having  something  to  cloak 
the  inexplicable,  her  tones  took  on  a  languor  to  fit 
the  statement:  "Of  course  I  feel  considerably 
shaken  up." 

"Of  course,  you  poor  dear,"  agreed  the  invisible 
one  instantly.  "  But,  oh,  is  n't  it  a  blessing  you  got 
off  as  well  as  you  did  ?  When  Willett  called  me  up 
I  —  Well,  I  just  held  my  breath.  Just  think  what 
it  might  have  been." 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  agreed  Una  —  with  much  appar- 
ent fervor,  but  with  a  grim  little  smile.  "  Just 
think  what  it  was !  " 

"  Willett  did  n't  say  exactly  where  you  had  been 
going,"  went  on  the  voice,  "  but  he  said  you  had 
changed  your  mind,  and  that  you  had  turned  round 
and  were  headed  for  home.  That 's  such  a  bless- 
ing. Supposing,  you  know  —  it  had  been  out  in 
the  country — " 

"  No,  I  don't  want  to  suppose,"  said  Una. 

"  No.  But  as  it  was  —  '  the  voice  appeared  to 
contemplate  matters  again  for  a  moment.  And 
then:  "  Did  Alan —  How  did  you  explain?  " 

"  I  did  n't,"  replied  Una,  truthfully  enough. 

"Oh!"  A  moment's  thought.  "Well,  did  he 
know,  then  ?  " 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER       41 

"  Oh,  yes." 

"  Goodness !  "  breathed  the  voice.  "  Did  you  — 
oh,  good  Lord !  —  get  an  awful  scolding?  " 

"  No-o :  not  a  scolding." 

"  Humph ! "  the  voice  took  on  a  dry  quality. 
Probably,  Una  reflected,  the  voice  was  acquainted 
more  or  less  with  Leland.  "  Not  much,  but  strictly 
to  the  point,  I  suppose." 

"  Yes,"  agreed  Una,  with  a  little  involuntary 
sigh. 

"  Oh,  well,  don't  mind,"  comforted  the  voice, 
"  What  do  you  care  —  the  old  crank !  " 

"  Well,  of  course  — "  said  Una,  deprecatingly. 
Her  sympathies  were  all  on  Leland's  side.  She 
hated  to  hear  him  spoken  of  slightingly. 

"  Oh,  yes,  of  course  it 's  awkward,"  agreed  the 
voice,  judicially;  "but  then  it  was  still  daytime. 
Whatever  he  may  think,  I  don't  see  that  he  can 
make  so  very  much  capital  — "  The  sentence  was 
left  trailing  in  the  air,  which  Una  decided  was  a 
very  artistic  ending  for  just  that  kind  of  sentence. 

"  He  won't  try  to  use  it,"  she  said. 

"  Not  this  time,  I  suppose,"  rejoined  the  voice, 
with  a  little  laugh. 

"  No." 

"  But  you  feel  you  have  to  be  very  careful  —  on 
probation,  as  it  were,"  guessed  the  voice  with  a  sort 
of  dry  understanding. 

Una  divined  that  her  predecessor  —  which  was 


42       [N  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

the  name  she  had  for  all  that  had  gone  before  —  had 
made  so  much  of  a  confidante  of  this  girl,  or 
woman,  that  she  was  intimately  acquainted  with  all 
possibilities,  both  of  personalities  and  circumstances. 
"  Yes,  something  like  that,"  she  agreed  quietly. 

"  Bother ! "  complained  the  voice  petulantly. 
"  That  makes  things  so  awkward.  And  that  re- 
minds me.  Willett  's  just  crazy  to  see  or  hear  from 
you.  He  called  me  up  just  a  little  while  ago.  I 
can't  remember  half  the  things  he  told  me  to  tell 
you.  How  can  he  see  you  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  replied  Una,  easily  enough. 

"  Well,  you  'd  better  come  on  over.  And  then 
he  can  let  his  man  drive  him  out.  You  know  he 
can't  drive  the  car  himself  on  account  of  his  wrist. 
He—" 

"  Oh,  no  —  I  don't  believe  I  'd  better,"  demurred 
Una.  "I  —  I  don't  feel  so  sure  of  myself  yet." 

"  You  've  had  a  good  scaring,  have  n't  you?  "  said 
the  voice  reflectively  after  a  moment. 

"  No.  No ;  but  I  don't  want  to  come  out  to-day," 
said  Una.  Recognizing  the  necessity  of  being  ex- 
planatory and  friendly,  she  added :  "  Honestly,  I 
don't  feel  myself  yet.  I  'm  not  hurt  or  anything 
like  that  —  but  —  oh,  I'm  just  not  myself.  If  I 
come  I  'm  liable  to  cry,  or  laugh  in  the  wrong  place 
—  or  do  something  silly." 

There  was  a  moment's  silence  before  the  voice 
spoke  again.  "  Well,  you  poor  kidlets,  I  expect  you 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER        43 

have  gone  through  a  lot."  Whether  the  soft  tones 
were  full  of  sympathy  or  disbelief  Una  could  not 
tell.  "  But  you  '11  get  over  it  in  a  day  or  so,  and 
laugh  to  think  how  scared  you  were.  What  shall  I 
tell  Willett?" 

"  Oh  " —  Una  was  inclined  to  be  impatient  at 
this  insistent  mention  of  a  man  she  knew  nothing  of 
— "  oh  —  tell  him  anything." 

"  Well !  "  Una  heard  a  distinct  gasp.  "  No 
thank  you.  I  want  to  live  a  little  longer." 

Una  laughed  —  a  bubbling  laugh  of  real  mirth. 
The  amazement  at  the  other  end  of  the  telephone 
was  so  apparent  and  so  funny.  "  Oh,  well,"  she 
amended  then.  "  You  know  I  did  n't  exactly  mean 
that.  Oh,  you  know  what  to  tell  him,"  she  coaxed. 

"  I  don't.     I  won't  even  try  to  think." 

Una  tried  to  for  herself.  She  hated  to  send  any 
kind  of  message  to  the  man.  She  felt  it  was  added 
disloyalty,  though  she  could  not  have  told  why  nor 
how  she  reasoned  it.  At  the  same  time  she  was  so 
utterly  in  the  dark  as  to  this  other  man  —  his  iden- 
tity, how  far  involved  with  him  she  was  —  and  as 
to  the  extent  of  his  hold  on  her,  that  obviously  her 
only  safety  lay  in  making  no  decisive  move  what- 
ever. 

"  Tell  him,"  she  said,  "  that  I  'm  sorry  about  his 
wrist.  And  tell  him  that  I  feel  foolish  and  shaken 
up,  and  don't  want  to  come  out  yet.  That 's  all. 
That  will  be  enough.  Men  hate  hysterical  women." 


44        IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

The  voice  laughed.  "  Well,  maybe.  But  I  don't 
believe  he  hates  you  in  any  mood.  You  know,  I  had 
no  idea  how  great  a  — "  She  paused.  "  I  don't 
think  you  realize  what  a — "  She  seemed  to  have 
an  odd,  expressive  way  of  leaving  sentences  sus- 
pended at  advisable  points. 

Una  sniffed  in  audible  and  sincere  disgust.  Al- 
ready she  outlined  some  conceited  society  fop. 
Rich,  no  doubt,  but  —  bah !  This  disgust  was  not 
intended  to  travel  over  the  wire,  and  did  not  in  its 
entirety.  But  the  listener  sensed  a  very  independ- 
ent, troublesome  mood. 

"  Well,  I  can  tell  you  're  not  yourself  one  little 
bit,"  she  avowed  with  conviction.  "  For  goodness' 
sake,  go  and  lie  down  again.  Put  in  the  whole  of 
to-day  in  bed,  and  then  call  me  up  in  the  morning 
and  tell  me  you  're  sorry." 

"  No,  you  call  me,"  said  Una  quickly. 

"Why?" 

"  Oh  —  just  because." 

"  Because,"  mimicked  the  voice.  "  You  have  a 
reason,  of  course.  And  I  shall  make  you  tell  me 
everything  when  I  see  you.  You  —  why,  I  'd  like 
to  spank  you !  "  She  laughed.  "  Now  go  to  bed." 

"  I  will,"  agreed  Una  meekly. 

"  See  you  do.     Bye-bye,  old  lady." 

Una  hung  up  with  a  sigh  of  relief,  and  laughed, 
really  laughed.  What  a  fairy  tale!  What  an  in- 
credible farce!  How  long  could  it  last? 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER       45 

After  hanging  up  the  telephone  receiver,  Una 
slowly  and  reflectively  took  down  the  telephone  di- 
rectory. Leland  had  spoken  of  one  Renshaw,  and 
the  unknown  woman  had  talked  incessantly  of  a 
Willett.  They  were  probably  one  and  the  same. 
She  opened  the  directory  at  W,  and  found  nothing 
nearer  than  Willard.  Then  she  looked  for  Ren- 
shaw, and  found  what  she  expected :  "  Renshaw, 
Willett  R.,  Fairview  Drive,"  and  beneath :  "  Office, 
220  Renshaw  Building." 

Renshaw  Building.  Yes,  that  sounded  as  if  he 
were  a  rich  man,  as  she  had  surmised.  She  pon- 
dered a  moment,  considering  the  possibilities  of  the 
book  as  a  source  of  additional  information  concern- 
ing the  strangers  who  so  unaccountably  had  come 
into  her  life. 

She  turned  to  the  L  columns,  and  looked  for 
Leland.  Yes,  it  was  there.  "  Leland,  Alan  T., 
civil  engineer,  Lake  View  and  Eastern  Railroad  Co., 
Blain  Building."  And  just  below,  the  same  name 
with  the  residence  address,  "  945  Schuyler  Ave., 
June  Park." 

That  was  it.  Una  glanced  out  at  the  window 
with  fresh  approbation.  June  Park  was  evidently 
one  of  the  nice,  conservative  suburbs  of  the  town. 
She  hung  up  the  directory  again.  It  was,  of  course, 
useless  for  her  to  try  to  look  up  her  recent  telephone 
visitor.  That  identity  time  alone  would  disclose. 
She  frowned  —  a  puzzled,  worried  frown,  and  rose 


46        IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

hurriedly.  Puzzling  and  worrying  would  not  help 
her. 

Like  a  restless  spirit,  she  wandered  from  room  to 
room  that  morning.  She  looked  each  room  and  all 
its  appointments  over  closely.  The  only  room  she 
did  not  go  into  was  the  kitchen.  Not  being  able 
to  guess  whether  the  former  Mrs.  Leland  had  fre- 
quented the  kitchen  much,  nor  what  she  had  done 
when  she  was  in  there,  Una  stayed  out  of  it  for 
the  present. 

About  one  o'clock  she  heard  two  taps  on  the 
dinner  gong.  Guessing  that  it  was  for  luncheon, 
she  went  down  with  some  misgivings,  wondering 
whether  or  not  Alan  Leland  came  home  for  the 
midday  meal.  Evidently  he  did  not,  for  the  table 
was  laid  for  one,  and  that  one  very  plainly  a 
woman. 

Hot  chocolate  and  whipped  cream,  crab  Newberg 
on  toast,  cake,  and  fruit  formed  a  dainty  luncheon. 
Recollecting  what  she  had  eaten  for  breakfast,  Una 
was  surprised  to  find  that  the  prospect  of  con- 
suming another  meal  was  not  unpleasant.  She  ate 
the  Newberg  and  toast,  and  drank  the  chocolate ;  but 
for  some  reason,  possibly  out  of  deference  to  the 
small  appetite  she  felt  she  ought  to  have,  she  de- 
nied herself  the  fruit. 

Luncheon  over,  Una  went  quietly  upstairs.  She 
was  going  to  prepare  to  take  the  step  which  her 
mind,  ceaselessly  busy,  like  a  captive  in  a  laby- 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER       47 

rinth,  had  decided  upon  as  her  next  in  her  search 
for  herself.  She  was  terrified  at  the  idea  of  what 
it  might  lead  to.  But,  like  the  desire  to  see  herself 
in  the  mirror,  it  was  irresistible  and  had  to  be 
obeyed.  Besides,  a  sort  of  rule  had  formulated  it- 
self within  her  during  the  last  twenty-four  hours,  a 
mandate  imposed  by  she  knew  not  what.  She  felt 
that,  whatever  confronted  her  in  her  new  life  from 
hour  to  hour,  she  must  walk  boldly  up  and  face  it. 
In  hesitation  she  would  be  lost. 

So  now  she  was  going  down  into  the  city  —  to 
where  she  felt  she  must  have  been  many  times  be- 
fore, to  the  center  of  it,  whence  most  roads  must 
surely  diverge.  She  felt  that  the  force  of  associa- 
tion could  give  her  at  least  a  clue  to  the  mystery. 
Of  course,  as  far  as  locality  was  concerned,  she  ap- 
peared to  be  at  present  just  where  she  belonged; 
but  if,  on  reaching  the  city,  she  had  even  the  least 
inclination  in  one  direction  more  than  another,  she 
was  going  to  take  it.  It  might  take  her  to  that 
mother  she  felt  was  still  somewhere  in  the  back- 
ground waiting.  Just  now  anything,  even  the  worst, 
would  be  better  than  this  horrible  uncertainty. 

Entering  her  room,  she  sought  with  much  inter- 
est among  her  new  wardrobe  for  a  plain  street  suit. 
It  was  not  to  be  found,  as  regards  the  plain  part. 
The  severely  neat  tailored  suit  had  evidently  found 
no  place  in  the  previous  Mrs.  Leland's  scheme  of 
dressing.  Among  the  many  coats,  wraps,  and  cos- 


48        IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

tumes  Una  discovered  three  street  suits;  and  of 
these  the  plainest  was  a  lovely  wistaria  chiffon  cloth, 
which  she  proceeded  to  put  on. 

Una  surveyed  with  free  and  open  admiration  and 
pleasure  the  handsome  reflection  thrown  upon  her 
mirror.  She  did  not  feel  for  a  moment  as  if  she 
were  admiring  herself.  All  the  love  of  beauty  and 
of  beautiful  things  that  was  so  strong  in  her  welled 
up  and  was  satisfied  as  she  turned  slowly  from  side 
to  side. 

As  she  stepped  outside  the  heavy  street  door  of 
the  residence  and  was  about  to  close  it  behind  her, 
Una  stopped  and  clutched  it  suddenly.  It  had  just 
occurred  to  her  that  she  was  going  out  without  one 
cent  of  money.  What  was  the  matter  with  her? 
She  hurried  back  upstairs.  This  might  mean  a  final 
setback  to  her  plans.  Though  surely  there  must  be 
some  money  belonging  to  her  predecessor  some- 
where, if  she  could  only  find  it.  She  remembered  to 
have  seen,  while  glancing  into  the  drawers  of  her 
dressing-table,  a  beaded  hand-bag.  That  might 
have  some  money  in  it. 

She  investigated  that  first  of  all,  and  was  re- 
warded by  finding  within  it  a  small-change  purse 
containing  a  five-dollar  bill,  a  fifty-cent  piece,  and 
a  few  pennies ;  also,  in  an  inside  pocket  of  the  bag,  a 
card-case  with  Mrs.  Alan  T.  Leland's  cards;  and 
besides  these  things  two  small  keys,  whose  use  Una 
promised  herself  to  investigate  when  she  returned  — 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER       49 

if  she  did  return.  Indeed,  if  she  returned  she  was 
going  to  examine  her  room  very  thoroughly  —  the 
desk,  drawers,  even  the  pockets  of  the  coats  —  to 
see  what  information  of  one  kind  or  another  they 
might  contain. 

Again  Una  made  a  start  for  the  street.  This 
time  she  looked  the  house  over  very  carefully  from 
the  outside,  noting  its  surroundings  and  memoriz- 
ing the  appearance  of  both  corners  of  the  block. 
Though  at  the  back  of  her  mind  was  really  a  lurk- 
ing doubt  that  she  would  ever  return  to  this  par- 
ticular scene  at  all,  still,  if  she  were  not  claimed 
elsewhere,  she  might  need  to  return  to  this  last 
known  anchorage,  and  she  must  know  how  to  find 
it. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THREE  blocks  below  her  house,  walking  in 
what  she  took  to  be  the  direction  of  the  city, 
Una  came  upon  a  car  line.  She  did  not  know  in 
which  direction  the  car  she  wanted  ran;  but  she 
made  up  her  mind  to  board  the  next  one.  She  could 
at  least  stay  on  to  the  end  of  the  run,  and  then  go 
back  down-town  with  it.  As  it  happened,  the  next 
car  was  going  to  the  city;  and  so  she  was  soon 
started  on  her  adventure. 

As  she  sat  on  the  car,  Una  felt  like  a  person  who 
had  suddenly  found  herself  on  another  planet  and 
was  trying  desperately  not  to  attract  attention  to  the 
fact  that  she  was  a  stranger.  She  almost  marveled 
that  no  one  seemed  particularly  interested  in  her  ap- 
pearance. The  ride  into  town  was  not  a  long  one; 
but  to  Una  it  was  surely  the  strangest  ride  she  had 
ever  taken  in  her  life.  She  was  traveling  with 
Aladdin's  lamp  and  any  minute  she  might  accident- 
ally rub  it.  Only,  for  her  the  lamp  would  work  in- 
versely and  kill  the  brief  dream  of  splendor.  She 
sighed  involuntarily.  Two  things  already  she  liked 
more  than  well  —  the  man  and  the  home. 

She  alighted  at  a  point  that  must  certainly  be  one 
of  the  most  central  spots  of  the  city.  One  of  the 

So 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER        51 

main  arteries  ran  through  this  point,  and  five  appar- 
ently important  streets  debouched  into  it.  Street 
cars  came  and  went  in  all  directions.  She  stood  on 
one  of  the  corners,  near  the  doors  of  a  department 
store. 

After  waiting  a  few  minutes,  watching  the  people 
come  and  go  until  her  mind  was  calmer  and  more 
easily  concentrated,  she  began  to  examine  the  cars 
to  see  if  she  were  drawn  to  one  more  than  to  an- 
other. She  looked  at  the  buildings  about  her,  but 
no  faintest  inclination  to  go  in  any  particular  direc- 
tion could  be  detected  or  even  imagined.  And  still 
she  did  not  feel  like  a  woman  in  an  entirely  strange 
city;  she  felt  at  home  and  comfortable. 

Baffled,  she  turned  and  went  into  the  department 
store  near  her.  It  was  an  immense  concern,  doubt- 
less one  of  the  largest  in  the  city,  and  she  must  cer- 
tainly have  been  in  it  before.  But  as  she  wandered 
through  its  aisles  nothing  opened  up  before  her, 
neither  was  the  veil  rent  that  had  fallen  behind  her. 
Suddenly  she  wearied  and  decided  to  go  home  — 
back  to  that  place  whence  she  had  started.  She 
would  go  back  and  wait.  Just  wait  and  see  what 
she  was  shown  —  what  seemed  to  come  to  her  to  do. 

As  Una  rode  back  to  her  new  home  on  the  June 
Park  car,  she  reflected.  One  thing,  at  all  events, 
this  effort  —  unrewarded  and  a  failure  though  it 
seemed  to  be  —  had  done  for  her.  It  had  shown 
her  that  for  the  present  she  was  Elsie  Leland,  To 


52       IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

think  of  herself  as  Una  and  try  to  answer  to  the 
name  of  Elsie  would  bring  about  confusion  sooner 
or  later.  So  she  left  Una  behind  in  the  city  and 
turned  her  face  determinedly  toward  the  new  phase 
of  life  she  had  to  deal  with. 

So  deeply,  in  spite  of  the  almost  hypnotic  influ- 
ence which  material  forms  have  upon  it,  does  the 
human  soul  realize  that  circumstances  are  but  a  set 
of  conditions  encircling  a  certain  state  of  perception, 
changing  as  time,  which  is  change  of  perception, 
goes  on,  that  before  Elsie  was  half-way  back  to  her 
new  home  she  had  accepted  the  startling  state  of 
affairs  thrust  upon  her  and  was  almost  breathlessly 
diverted  and  interested. 

Elsie  got  back  to  Schuyler  Avenue  without  further 
surprises,  save  that  an  unknown  lady  smiled  and 
bowed  to  her  in  the  car.  Elsie  hastened  to  return 
the  greeting  and  reflected  that  among  her  many  dif- 
ficulties would  be  that  of  meeting  people  whom  she 
would  be  supposed  to  know  and  naturally  could 
not. 

On  her  way  up  Schuyler  Avenue  from  the  car 
it  occurred  to  Elsie  that  possibly  one  of  those  two 
keys  in  her  purse  might  be  the  latch-key  to  Number 
945.  She  chose  the  larger  of  the  two,  and  when 
she  reached  the  door,  tried  it.  It  worked;  and  she 
felt  a  wave  of  decided  satisfaction  pass  over  her  — 
a  sense  of  reality,  of  taking  possession  of  her  new 
life. 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER       53 

Annie  was  caroling  loudly  in  the  kitchen  as  she 
entered,  but  dropped  three  or  four  keys  in  pitch 
as  she  heard  the  closing  of  the  front  door.  Elsie 
went  straight  up  to  her  room  and  changed  her 
suit  for  a  crepe  de  chine  gown  of  a  deep,  rich  blue. 
When  all  was  done  she  delighted  in  herself  before 
the  mirror  for  the  space  of  four  or  five  round-eyed, 
delicious  moments. 

She  discovered  by  the  ivory  timepiece  on  her 
dressing-table  that  it  was  nearly  five  o'clock.  She 
wondered  at  what  time  dinner  was  usually  served 
and  whether  Annie  did  the  entire  cooking  and  serv- 
ing. But  in  this,  as  in  everything  else,  she  must 
wait  and  see.  If  she  were  supposed  to  help  in  any 
way  and  did  not,  perhaps  it  would  be  set  down  to 
her  indisposition. 

She  went  downstairs  and  amused  herself  taking 
in  the  view  from  each  window.  Now  that  it  seemed 
likely  that  she  would  be  here  for  at  least  some 
time  she  was  interested  anew.  A  little  later  the 
telephone  bell  rang.  Elsie  answered  it  with  that 
strained  apprehension,  that  keen  summoning  of  all 
her  wits  which  each  new  happening  called  forth. 
Her  heart  gave  a  quick  little  beat  as  she  recognized 
the  voice  of  the  man  speaking. 

"Is  this  you,  Elsie?" 

"  Yes." 

"  I  find  I  shall  have  to  go  up  the  line,"  went  on 
the  voice.  Elsie  decided  as  she  listened  that  it  must 


54      IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

be  the  railway  line  with  which  he  was  connected. 
"  So  I  sha'n't  be  home  for  dinner." 

"  That 's  too  bad,"  replied  Elsie,  with  a  mingled 
feeling  of  relief  and  resentment. 

There  came  the  sense  of  a  moment's  considera- 
tion at  the  other  end  of  the  line.  Then.  "  Well,  I 
wanted  you  to  know.  Good-by." 

Elsie  hung  up  the  receiver  and  went  into  the 
kitchen.  It  was  beautifully  light  and  clean,  mod- 
ern and  up-to-date.  She  glanced  round  in  quick, 
covert  admiration.  On  the  table,  dressed  and  ready 
for  the  oven,  in  a  pan  of  the  latest  glass  cooking- 
ware,  was  a  duck.  Annie  turned  inquiringly  from 
the  range  as  Elsie  entered. 

"  Mr.  Leland  won't  be  home  for  dinner,  Annie." 

"  Oh !     You  're  going  out,  then  ?  " 

"  No." 

Annie  seemed  both  surprised  and  disappointed. 
"  You  need  not  get  up  a  full  dinner  for  me.  What 
have  you  got  besides  that?  "  nodding  at  the  duck. 

Annie  meditated  a  moment.  "  Some  veal  cut- 
lets. And  then  there  's  ice-cream  and  cake ;  and 
potatoes  in  the  oven." 

"  That  will  do  nicely.  And  you  can  put  it  on 
as  soon  as  you  like,  Annie.  I  'm  hungry." 

Elsie  felt  as  she  turned  away  that  Annie  stood 
looking  after  her,  faintly  puzzled.  It  was  embar- 
rassing, but  would  have  to  be  lived  through  in  the 
case  of  each  person  coming  into  contact  with  her  life. 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER        55 

Her  physical  appearance  and  movements  would  be 
the  same  —  for  a  time  at  all  events  —  as  those  of 
her  vanished  predecessor;  the  inflection  of  her  voice 
would  be  the  same,  or  nearly  the  same.  But  the 
manner  of  expressing  her  individuality  could  not 
possibly  resemble  that  of  the  woman  whose  place 
she  had  usurped.  There  was  one  comforting 
thought,  however,  she  must  keep  rigidly  in  mind: 
though  people  might  marvel,  they  could  never  guess 
the  clue  to  the  change.  Unless  she  were  exposed, 
unless  the  real  Elsie  reappeared,  they  would  soon 
get  used  to  the  change  and  cease  to  notice  it. 

After  dinner  Annie  came  to  her  again :  "  You 
going  to  the  show  to-night?  " 

"  No."  Elsie  shook  her  head,  divining  what  was 
behind  the  question.  "  Why  ?  Do  you  want  to  go 
out,  Annie  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  'd  like  to.  But  you  'd  be  afraid, 
would  n't  you?  "  From  her  easy  manner  of  speak- 
ing Annie  evidently  had  always  been  on  familiar 
terms  with  her  mistress. 

"  Oh,  no !  "  Elsie  laughed  and  turned  back  to  the 
fashion  magazine  whose  pages  she  had  been  turning, 
noting  the  many  points  of  similarity  between  the 
costumes  depicted  therein  and  those  hanging  in  her 
wardrobe  upstairs.  "  You  may  go  out,  Annie. 
Only  don't  be  late.  I  want  to  go  to  bed  early." 

Annie  departed  with  promptness.  After  Elsie 
had  heard  hef  somewhat  heavy  steps  go  down  the 


56       IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

cement  walk  and  away,  she  turned  at  once  to  do 
what  she  had  already  longed  so  many  times  to  do. 
She  sat  down  before  the  piano,  touching  softly  and 
tentatively  the  mellow-sounding  keys  of  the  upright. 
She  felt  somehow  as  if  the  ends  of  her  ringers 
craved  to  play  and  she  allowed  them  to  place  them- 
selves. After  a  few  chords,  she  turned  over  the 
array  of  music  on  the  piano  and  chose  a  popular, 
semi-classic  song  with  a  fairly  simple  accompani- 
ment as  being  the  nearest  to  her  mark  for  a  begin- 
ning. 

She  was  not  surprised  at  the  ease  with  which  her 
fingers  found  the  required  notes  and  chords.  She 
had  always  been  able  to  play  and  somehow  she  ex- 
pected these  new  shapely  fingers  to  obey  her.  But 
she  had  always  envied  those  who  could  sing.  Could 
she?  she  wondered  with  a  great  thrill  of  hope,  and 
knowing  the  melody  of  the  song  before  her,  began 
softly  to  sing.  As  she  listened  to  the  first  bar,  her 
joy  was  unbounded.  She  sang  in  a  full,  round 
mezzo-soprano,  which  she  felt  was  trained.  As  a 
matter  of  fact,  the  training  was  but  partial  and  the 
voice  was  full  of  technical  faults,  but  Elsie  was  no 
judge  of  this.  She  only  felt  the  ease  with  which  it 
rolled  out  of  her  mouth,  and  noted  the  volume,  and 
was  almost  beside  herself  with  joy.  The  beautiful 
home,  the  jewels  in  her  case  upstairs,  the  pretty 
clothes  in  her  wardrobe  —  none  of  these  had  given 
her  the  warm  glow  of  delight,  almost  ecstasy,  that 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER        57 

this  new-found  possession  did.  She  almost  felt  like 
speaking  aloud  and  begging  that,  whatever  else 
might  fade,  this  one  thing  might  be  left  her. 

For  about  two  hours  she  sat  there,  oblivious  of 
time,  trying  one  thing  after  another.  But  at  last 
her  voice  grew  husky  and  tired  and  with  reluctance 
she  rose.  It  was  best  not  to  overdo  things  at  first. 

She  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  floor  for  a  few 
minutes,  undecided  what  to  do  —  to  be  exact,  unde- 
cided what  to  do  to  keep  herself  from  thinking.  At 
the  back  of  her  brain  an  idea,  a  course,  was  shaping 
itself,  and  as  yet  she  only  knew  that  she  wanted  to 
keep  away  from  it.  She  would  read.  She  went 
over  to  the  bookcase  —  Alan's  —  and  took  from  it 
Maeterlinck's  "  Wisdom  and  Destiny  "  and  seated 
herself  in  a  big  leather  sleepy-hollow  chair. 

She  read  for  a  while,  frowned  and  fidgeted  a 
little,  and  then  read  again.  The  page  before  her  was 
a  dry  collection  of  words.  Not  that  she  did  not  un- 
derstand the  English  words  before  her  —  their  defi- 
nition, that  is.  But  that  was  all.  They  were  a  mere 
collection  of  words.  The  idea,  the  spirit  of  which 
they  were  but  the  symbol,  she  could  not  conjure  up. 
Perhaps  she  was  just  tired  and  stupid.  But  even 
as  she  tried  to  think  it  she  knew  she  was  not.  On 
the  contrary,  her  mind  was  keyed  up  to  the  fullest 
possible  pitch.  She  took  up  the  book  again  and 
carefully  read  a  sentence.  Of  course  she  under- 
stood it;  and  for  a  brief  instant,  like  a  lightning 


58       IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

exposure,  the  idea  for  which  the  words  stood  flashed 
across  her  understanding  —  and  then  was  gone, 
leaving  the  words  staring  at  her. 

She  closed  the  book  and  laid  it  on  her  knees. 
It  was  useless  to  struggle  with  a  state  of  affairs  she 
did  not  fully  understand.  Not  fully :  a  glimmering 
of  the  truth  came  to  her. 

The  other  woman  had  not  been  dull  —  far  from 
it;  in  a  way  she  had  been  brilliant.  Her  intuitive 
faculty  —  that  link  between  the  mind  and  the  under- 
standing back  of  it  —  was  large,  and  its  use  had 
been  developed,  though  perhaps  perverted.  She 
could  scheme  with  amazing  facility  and  skill;  and 
her  grasp  of  affairs,  her  judgment  of  the  probable 
outcome  of  a  course  of  action  and  its  effect  on  the 
actions  of  others,  was  far-reaching  and  accurate. 
The  quality  of  brain  that  the  present  incumbent  tried 
to  use  was  not  less,  but  different  —  and  that  merely 
from  the  manner  of  its  use.  The  things  that  this 
woman  wanted  to  love  and  think  much  upon,  that 
other  woman  had  not  cared  for.  Each  habit  of  the 
body  is  a  habit  of  the  mind,  and  each  habit  of  the 
mind  must  become  a  habit  of  the  body. 

And  so,  for  the  present,  Elsie  gave  up  and  put  the 
book  away.  She  was  going  to  know  and  learn  to 
love  these  books,  but  not  to-night.  She  could  not 
begin  to-night.  She  laid  her  head  back  in  the  chair 
and  gave  up  to  that  brain  that  nowadays  seemed 
to  be  her  master,  The  delight  and  interest  of  the 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER        59 

music  had  given  her  a  short  surcease;  but  as  soon 
as  that  was  ended  her  thoughts  flew  back  to  her 
problem. 

She  had  told  herself  as  she  came  home  from  the 
city  that  afternoon  that  she  would  take  things  as 
they  were  presented  to  her  and  await  the  outcome. 
But  it  seemed  she  could  not.  Here  she  was,  back 
at  her  scheming  and  puzzling.  And  it  almost  seemed 
to  her  as  if,  while  her  attention  was  diverted  else- 
where, her  brain,  that  anxious  and  faithful  schemer 
and  protector,  had  been  unceasingly  busy.  For, 
upon  the  return  of  her  attention,  she  found  a  de- 
cision almost  formed.  Not,  to  be  sure,  clothed  in 
much  detail  as  yet,  but  still  shaped  or  shaping. 

She  must  find  that  other  girl  in  the  accident.  Re- 
duced to  the  simplest  terms,  the  main  factors  of  her 
problem  seemed  to  have  reduced  themselves  to  this. 
If  she  was  living  in  some  other  woman's  body,  who 
was  living  in  hers?  When  she  thought  of  it  like 
this,  that  other  girl  rose  up  in  her  mind.  She  had 
tried  to  find  a  clue  leading  to  that  shadowy  mother, 
and  had  been  thrown  back  on  herself.  She  must 
find  the  girl.  That  she  could  surely  do,  though 
not  easily  perhaps.  The  nurse  who  had  told  of 
her  was  gone,  and  Elsie  felt  she  would  not  have 
cared  to  question  her  in  any  case.  No  doubt  Alan 
knew  who  she  was ;  but  she  hesitated  about  broach- 
ing the  subject  to  him.  Perhaps  that  Willett  had 
told  the  Lady-of-the-Telephone.  Anyway,  she 


60       IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

would  find  out.  Instinct  for  her  own  safety  told 
her  to  leave  well  alone.  But  she  could  not.  The 
clue  to  the  puzzle  might  be  worse  than  the  puzzle 
itself ;  but  still  she  had  to  find  it  if  she  could.  Some- 
how, in  a  manner  hardly  reasoned  out,  she  felt  she 
would  be  wronging  some  other  if  she  did  not. 


CHAPTER  VII 

ELSIE  was  a  long  time  getting  to  sleep  that 
night.  Dread  of  the  plans  she  herself  had 
formed  kept  her  awake.  But  so  weary  was  she 
when  at  last  she  did  fall  asleep  that  she  slept  soundly 
—  so  soundly  that  she  was  amazed  on  waking  the 
next  morning  to  find  it  was  full  eight  o'clock.  She 
jumped  out  of  bed,  bathed,  and  dressed  at  once. 
On  going  downstairs  she  found  that  Alan  had  not 
returned  the  night  before. 

As  she  passed  through  the  dining-room  after 
breakfast,  Elsie  was  greatly  amused  at  the  floral 
decorations  of  the  dining-table.  The  silver-and- 
glass  epergne  of  slender  and  lovely  design  was  filled 
with  flowers  —  heads  mostly.  In  each  of  the 
branch-like  receptacles  a  tight  round  posy  was 
wedged.  Elsie  took  the  epergne  into  the  butler's 
pantry  between  the  dining-room  and  the  kitchen, 
and  here  she  discovered  the  scissors  with  which 
Annie  had  evidently  but  recently  performed  on  the 
luckless  flowers.  Armed  with  these,  she  went  out 
into  the  garden  through  the  French  window  leading 
from  the  morning-room.  The  garden  was  beautiful 
and  carefully  tended  —  by  some  visiting  gardener, 
Elsie  presumed,  for  none  was  in  sight.  She  walked 
round  pleased  and  satisfied. 

61 


She  had  been  in  the  garden  but  a  few  minutes  and 
was  still  gathering  flowers  and  foliage  to  her  lik- 
ing when  Annie  came  in  search  of  her. 

"  'Phone,"  she  said,  adding  in  a  business-like  way, 
"  Mrs.  McKeene." 

Elsie  hastened  into  the  house,  preceding  Annie's 
substantial,  gingham-clad  figure  across  the  sward. 
She  thought  rapidly  as  she  went.  It  was  doubtless 
the  same  woman  who  had  talked  to  her  yesterday; 
if  so,  she  needed  to  know  her  given  name. 

"Yes?"  she  said,  seating  herself  at  the  tele- 
phone. 

"Is  this  you,  Elsie?"  demanded  the  voice  — 
that  of  yesterday  —  a  trifle  dubiously. 

"Yes."  Elsie  drawled  it  affectedly.  "Is  this 
you,  Lily?" 

"  Lily !  "  indignantly.     "  No.     It 's  me  —  Addie." 

Elsie  laughed.  "  Oh-h  !'•  I  should  never  have 
guessed  it," —  which  was  truthful  enough. 

"Well,  you'd  better.  Lily!  What  Lily,  I'd 
like  to  know  ?  " 

"  Oh,  almost  any  kind."  Elsie  bubbled  with  real 
amusement.  It  had  come  to  be  something  of  a 
game  —  an  intensely  fascinating  because  dangerous 
one.  And  then  she  quickly  curbed  her  mirth  and 
told  herself  that  she  had  better  be  careful  and  keep 
her  wits  about  her.  Still,  her  ruse  had  worked. 
Addie  McKeene  —  Mrs.  McKeene. 

"  Well,"    observed    the    voice    after    a    second, 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER       63 

"  you  're  evidently  feeling  very  funny  this  morning. 
But  anyway,  I  'm  thankful  you  're  better-tempered 
than  you  were  yesterday.  What  are  you  going  to 
do  to-day?" 

"  Be  good,"  parried  Elsie. 

"  Too  big  an  order,"  returned  the  voice  dryly. 
"  But  no  joking,  now  —  what  are  your  plans?  " 

"  I  have  n't  made  any." 

"  Well,  come  over  and  have  lunch.  And  then 
we  '11  decide  what  we  want  to  do  this  afternoon." 

Elsie  thought  hastily.  She  did  not  see  how  she 
could  accept  the  invitation  in  any  case,  seeing  she 
did  not  know  where  it  came  from.  "  Can't  be 
done,"  she  declared  laughingly  then.  "  I  'm  doing 
penance." 

This  statement  was  received  with  a  moment's 
silent  consideration.  And  then,  "  I  'm  coming 
straight  over.  Look  for  me,  Elsie."  And  the  re- 
ceiver was  abruptly  hung  up. 

Elsie  still  sat  by  the  telephone  stand.  Seeing  that 
inevitably  she  would  have  to  do  so  soon,  she  was 
glad  she  was  going  to  see  this  woman  at  once.  She 
felt  something  like  the  player  of  a  game,  about  to 
enter  into  a  great  test  of  skill.  That  really  was  what 
it  was  and  somehow  she  felt  very  alert  and  able. 
But  this  was  a  crucial  encounter.  She  must  not 
forget  that.  It  seemed  almost  incredible  that  she 
could  succeed  in  passing  herself  off  on  this  woman 
who  had  been  an  intimate  friend  of  that  other.  And 


64       IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

yet,  on  the  other  hand,  how  could  that  woman  look 
at  her  and  suspect  anything  different ! 

She  rose  and  went  into  the  living-room  to  watch 
for  the  arrival  of  this  new  friend.  As  far  as  she 
allowed  herself  to  speculate,  she  was  not  going  to 
like  her.  To  begin  with,  all  and  any  friends  of 
Addie  McKeene's  ways  of  thinking  were  going  to 
be  so  many  obstacles  in  the  new  path  she  had,  per- 
haps, to  make  —  obstacles,  though,  that  could  not  be 
removed  abruptly. 

As  she  was  thinking  these  things  over  and  gazing 
absently  out  upon  the  road  she  saw  a  handsome  little 
dark-blue  electric  glide  silently  up.  In  a  second  out 
jumped  a  slight  and  exceedingly  elegant  figure, 
which  banged  to  the  door  behind  it  and  ran  lightly 
up  the  cement  walk.  Elsie  opened  the  house  door 
and  the  figure  tripped  in  with  a  quick  little  swish 
of  skirts.  Elsie  had  a  fleeting  vision  of  a  bright, 
dark  face,  and  then  an  arm  went  round  her  shoul- 
ders and  a  soft  cheek  rubbed  kitten-like  against 
hers. 

"  Well,  you  dear,  bad  old  girl !  I 's  awful  glad 
to  see  it  all  right  again  —  even  if  it  is  a  cross  old 
thing." 

She  was  released  and  Addie  tossed  a  rich  wrap  of 
brocade  and  fur  upon  a  near-by  chair.  Then  she 
turned  back  to  Elsie,  who  was  standing  gazing  at 
her  and  realizing  once  for  all  that  speculating  on  the 
unseen  is  worse  than  waste  of  time.  Elsie  was  not 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER       65 

aware  that  she  had  actually  outlined  her  ideas  of  this 
woman  specifically,  but  she  found  she  had.  She  had 
covertly  expected  to  see  a  large,  languid-eyed,  pos- 
sibly overdressed  and  much-made-up  woman  —  a 
professional  perverter  of  young  married  women,  a 
mistress  of  intrigue  and  a  manager  of  risque  affairs. 
Instead,  here  was  this  dainty,  high-bred  looking  little 
thing  about  as  likely  to  lead  any  one  as  a  butterfly. 

With  an  air  of  gay  satisfaction,  Mrs.  McKeene 
placed  herself  in  a  chair,  clasped  her  hands  round  her 
knees,  and  laughed  out  loud.  But  neither  the  action 
nor  the  laugh  was  the  least  bit  vulgar.  Addie  was 
one  of  those  fortunate  persons  born  once  in  a  while 
who  can  say  and  do  almost  anything  without  by  any 
chance  appearing  vulgar. 

"  Elsie,  sit  down,"  she  exclaimed.  "  For  good- 
ness' sake  —  what  is  this  ?  A  Mrs.  Siddons  act, 
or  a  study  for  the  statue  of  Repentance?"  Elsie 
laughed,  and  sat  down.  "  That 's  better.  Now 
look  pleasant  while  I  give  you  the  *  once  over.' ' 

It  was  a  very  frank  inspection  and  Elsie  bore  it 
better  than  might  have  been,  owing  to  the  fact  that 
she  herself  was  busy  returning  it.  She  admired  very 
much  and  could  not  help  liking  on  sight  the  face 
before  her.  It  was  so  palpably  the  index  of  a  thor- 
oughly amiable  nature.  The  dark  eyes  were  bright 
and  fun-loving,  the  small  mouth  a  veritable  rosebud 
of  good  nature,  the  cheeks  two  smooth,  dimpled 
peaches. 


66       IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

"  Well,"  summed  up  Addie,  after  her  mock  solemn 
examination,  "  you  do  look  a  wee  bit  different, 
though  I  don't  know  whether  it 's  a  tiny  shadow  'way 
down  in  your  eyes  or  merely  a  chastened  expression. 
Yes  —  the  effect  is  still  distinctly  visible.  You  did 
get  a  good  scolding,  whatever  you  may  say." 

"  No,  that  is  n't  Alan's  way."  Elsie  shook  her 
head  with  conviction.  Already  she  knew  that  much. 
"  But  —  Oh,  I  felt  horribly  cheap !  That 's  all." 

Addie  nodded,  watching  her  friend  with  bright 
eyes.  "  I  suppose  so.  Well,  I  don't  know  how 
some  men  look  at  those  things.  Of  course,  Terry  's 
so  decent  about  it.  He  does  just  as  he  likes  himself 
and  never  dreams  of  objecting  to  my  doing  the  same, 
provided  I  don't  make  a  fool  of  myself.  Just  look 
what  a  terribly  dull  time  he  'd  have  if  he  did  n't, 
being  away  from  home  so  much  of  the  time !  —  and 
me,  too,"  she  added  with  a  mirthful  pucker  of  the 
lips. 

"  Yes/'  Elsie  kept  thoughtful  eyes  on  the  ground. 
She  felt  the  need  of  very  guarded  speech  —  else 
previous  concepts  would  be  smashed  at  one  meeting 
and  both  be  left  wide-eyed  over  the  ruins.  "  Only, 
you  see,  when  the  man  does  n't  happen  to  want  to  — 
to  do  as  he  likes  — "  She  paused.  Then  looked  up. 
Addie  McKeene's  face  was  mirthful. 

"  Lordy,  lordy!  —  as  if  such  a  man  was  ever 
made!"  Addie  laughed  softly  and  swayed  to  and 
fro  in  her  mirth.  "  They  all  do  as  they  like,  when 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER        67 

they  like.  Only  some  like  oftener  than  others. 
And  some  like  openly  and  some  prefer  cover.  And 
some  like  to  do  one  thing  and  some  another.  And 
there  you  are." 

Elsie  listened  with  a  smile,  but  offered  no  amend- 
ment to  this  sweeping  classification.  And  Addie 
went  on,  merry,  quizzical  eyes  on  her  friend's  face : 

"  But  I  came  over  with  the  full  intention  of  allow- 
ing you  to  moralize  as  much  as  ever  you  wanted  to. 
I  knew  it  would  make  you  feel  better.  I  never  knew 
you  to  do  it  before.  But  then,  one  does  n't  get 
shaken  up  in  automobiles  every  day,  either.  Bound 
to  come  out  of  the  shuffle  with  a  few  derangements, 
I  suppose.  Besides,  of  course,  it  was  a  very  narrow 
escape  —  From  Addie's  unfinished  tone  Elsie  did 
not  take  the  escape  to  be  from  physical  injury  alone. 

"  So  now," —  Addie  took  the  clasping  hands  from 
her  knees,  and  arranged  herself  neatly  in  the  chair, 
with  the  comical  air  of  a  curly  little  judge  about  to 
take  evidence  — "  we  '11  start  with  your  statement 
that  you  're  going  to  be  good.  How  are  you  going 
to  do  it  —  whatever  it  may  mean  ?  " 

Elsie  opened  her  eyes.  "  Dear  me !  "  she  laughed. 
'  This  is  worse  than  writing  the  Declaration  of  In- 
dependence on  a  dime,  as  some  misguided  person  or 
other  did.  How  does  any  one  be  good?  " 

"  That  depends  on  any  one  's  idea  of  being  good," 
responded  Addie  promptly.  "  What  is  yours  ?  " 

"Oh,  I  have  n't  got  it  formulated  and  ready  for 


68       IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

publication  yet,"  answered  Elsie,  keeping  up  the 
quizzical  strain.  In  reality  she  had  no  intention  of 
being  led  into  a  serious  discussion,  supposing  Addie 
McKeene  capable  of  it,  which  she  doubted. 

"  Perhaps  not.  But  you  've  thought  it  over  and 
arranged  a  few  foolish  little  ideas  in  a  row,"  insisted 
Addie.  "  I  can  tell  you  what  being  good  means  for 
you  just  at  present.  It  means  doing  just  what  Alan 
wants  you  to  and  substituting  his  ideas  for  yours." 

"  It  does  n't  —  is  n't  —  at  all,"  contradicted  Elsie 
promptly.  "  Can't  I  have  ideas  of  my  own  about 
being  good?  " 

"  Yes  —  and  they  're  not  Alan's,"  responded 
Addie  cheerfully.  And  then  the  whole  discussion 
was  evidently  so  amusing  that  she  could  hardly  keep 
that  laughing  little  mouth  of  hers  straight.  "  Are 
you  going  to  take  the  veil  ?  " 

"  I  had  n't  thought  of  it,  exactly." 

"  Or  are  you  going  to  stay  at  home  all  day  and  sit 
on  a  cushion  and  sew  a  fine  seam  ?  Or  like  the  dear 
good  ladies  of  old,  weave  gorgeous  tapestries  for  the 
sitting-room  walls?  Only,  as  far  as  I  remember, 
those  same  ladies  always  kept  an  eye  on  the  bend  of 
the  road  in  expectation  of  the  appearance  of  a  knight 
—  in  armor  or  otherwise." 

"  The  prospect  does  not  appeal  to  me  with  any 
great  force,"  responded  Elsie  gravely. 

"  Oh !  Well,  your  brand  of  goodness  is  evidently 
an  entirely  new  one."  And  then  with  a  little  sigh 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER       69 

and  an  air  of  banishing  all  jest  from  the  proceed- 
ings, "  Now,  dearest,  tell  your  own  Addie  every- 
thing. What  is  it  you  have  on  your  mind  ?  " 

"  Well," —  Elsie  accepted  the  invitation  at  face 
value — "you've  heard  of  a  coating  of  ice  being 
formed  sometimes  over  a  certain  warm  place, 
have  n't  you  ?  That 's  the  kind  I  've  been  skating  on 
lately,  I  fancy.  And  I  feel  I  'd  better  stop  while  — " 

"  While  the  stopping 's  good,"  finished  Addie, 
with  a  queer  little  grimace  at  her  own  slang.  "  Hm ! 
Well,  I  know  in  art  it 's  horrid  taste  to  begin  with 
details.  But  in  real  life  details  have  a  dreadful 
knack  of  getting  in  the  way.  How  about  Willett?  " 

"  Oh  —  Willett."  Elsie  looked  impatient.  Al- 
ready she  disliked  the  mere  name  of  the  man  —  un- 
principled fop  that  she  knew  he  must  be.  And  then 
because  she  knew  so  little  of  the  extent  of  his  affair 
with  her,  she  concluded  half-heartedly,  "  He  will  be 
the  least  of  my  troubles." 

"  Oh,  will  he?  "  said  Addie,  dryly.  "  You  can't 
persuade  me  that  you  know  so  little  of  him  as  all 
that." 

"  You  mean  that  heretofore  he  has  always  done 
the  winding  up  of  affairs  himself?  "  ventured  Elsie. 

"No,"  reflectively.  "No,  I  don't  believe  Wil- 
lett 's  a  bad-hearted  man  at  all.  He  's  too  big.  But 
—  he  won't  see  any  sense  in  the  whole  thing.  And 
neither  do  I.  I  've  never  known  you  to  have  such 
a  violent  spasm.  In  fact,  I  have  never  known  you 


70       IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

to  have  any  spasms  at  all.  That  is  one  thing  I  have 
always  loved  about  you.  Life  with  you  was  just 
one  big,  joyous  bubble.  And  now — "  She 
laughed  again,  as  if  at  the  mere  sight  of  the  meta- 
morphosed Elsie.  "Of  course,  though — "  she 
checked  herself  then  — "  I  don't  know  what  kind  of 
ultimatum  — ' 

Elsie  thought  a  moment.  Quite  evidently  she  had 
been  in  the  habit  of  making  a  full  confidante  of  this 
woman.  She  did  not  want  to  seem  to  do  less  now. 
"  No  ultimatum  exactly,"  she  said  then,  slowly. 
"  He  is  going  to  let  me  hang  myself,  unless  I  get 
into  the  papers.  Then  he  will  —  finish  the  hanging. 
That 's  all,"  she  sighed  as  the  position,  outlined 
afresh  by  the  words  she  had  spoken,  occurred  to 
her  again.  But  she  had  to  adopt  this  character, 
whether  or  no.  The  more  thoroughly  she  could 
enter  into  what  it  had  been,  the  better  she  could 
begin  to  shape  what  it  was  to  be  —  if  she  were  left 
to  do  the  shaping.  "  Only  it  made  me  think,  Addie," 
she  went  on.  "'  Really,  sooner  or  later,  women  who 
do  —  do  things  as  I  do,  end  up  in  just  about  one  way. 
Don't  you  think  they  do?  " 

"  No,  I  don't,"  responded  Addie  shortly  and 
promptly.  "  Idiots  end  up  as  idiots,  and  fools  as 
fools,  of  course.  But  so  they  do  in  every  connec- 
tion. -  And  if  you  take  long  chances  you  're  likely  to 
break  your  neck,  whether  it 's  in  the  stock-market, 
on  the  race-course,  or  —  or  in  life.  Moral:  don't 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER        71 

take  long  chances.  Women  —  and  men,  too  —  who 
bungle  their  affairs,  of  whatever  sort,  are  the  ones, 
of  course,  that  you  hear  of.  The  others  you  don't 
hear  of.  That's  all." 

Elsie  nodded  and  accepted  this  argument  with  a 
thoughtful  little  smile.  The  logic  of  it  appeared  ir- 
refutable; and  would  have  been  but  for  one  thing. 
It  was  based  on  an  unsound  premise.  Elsie  felt  this 
—  knew  it.  Only  at  that  time  she  could  not  think 
it  out.  And  she  would  not  have  expressed  herself 
if  she  could. 

"  Of  course,"  went  on  Addie,  tapping  the  carpet 
with  her  toe,  and  with  the  quaint  air  of  really  trying 
to  think  the  thing  out  with  total  impartiality,  "  if 
you  Ve  thought  it  all  over  and  really  want  to  — " 
She  paused,  and  allowed  that  sentence  to  end  itself 
with  decorum.  "  It 's  amusing,  though,  when  you 
think  about  it  —  so  childish  and  inconsistent  —  men, 
I  mean.  They  calmly  appropriate  a  woman  who 
has  been  accustomed  to  living  in  a  certain  way. 
They  themselves,  perhaps,  have  n't  been  accustomed 
to  living  that  way,  or  don't  want  to  —  comes  to  the 
same  thing.  And  they  can't,  or  won't,  let  the  woman 
go  on  living  in  the  only  way  she  knows  how  to  live." 

"  Well,  I  suppose,"  said  Elsie,  gently,  "  they  ex- 
pect the  woman  to  think  that  all  over  before  she 
marries." 

"Not  at  all!"  disagreed  Addie,  with  comically 
cheerful  and  good-natured  cynicism.  "  They  be- 


72        IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

come  infatuated  with  a  woman  and  don't  rest  till' 
they  get  her.  Then,  when  infatuation  is  over,  they 
expect  her  to  remodel  herself  entirely  to  suit  pres- 
ent conditions,  which  generally  means  themselves. 
Now,  look  at  you.  Look  at  the  life  you  had  with 
your  mother  —  one  long,  continual  round  of  pleas- 
ure. And  after  you  married,  a  complete  reversal. 
Not  supposed  to  need  anything  but  home  and  hubby. 
And  you  tried  to  live  up  to  the  program,  too.  You 
kept  it  up  much  longer  than  I  should  ever  have 
thought  you  could  —  much  longer  than  was  good 
for  you,  really;  for  you  were  only  holding  yourself 
in,  whether  you  knew  it  or  not.  And  besides,  what 
on  earth  would  you  do  with  fifty  dollars  a  month?  " 

Elsie  laughed  outright,  Addie's  expression  was  so 
comical. 

"  Of  course  you  could  manage  to  dress  on  it,  I 
suppose,  and  pay  car  fare  and  so  forth.  But  what 
sort  of  life  would  you  have?"  And  Addie  opened 
her  eyes  as  if  in  contemplation  of  its  hideous  bare- 
ness. "  No  bridge,  no  opera  boxes,  no  dansants,  no 
matinee  luncheons,  no  —  oh,  well,  simply  nothing! 
You  'd  have  to  join  a  thimble  club,  and  have  a  nice 
circle  of  ladies  call  on  you,  and  have  mild  little  teas 
at  one  another's  Tiouses  in  turn.  And  you  might 
have  a  five-hundred  afternoon  once  in  a  while  by  way 
of  a  debauch."  Addie  laughed  in  real  and  unaf- 
fected amusement  at  the  career  she  had  conjured  up. 

Elsie  laughed,  too.     But  she  made  no  verbal  criti- 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER        73 

cism  of  this  sketchy  outline  of  her  new  life.  A  sense 
of  something  more  weighty  than  usual  about  the 
woman  before  her  entered  into  Addie  McKeene's 
dancing  but  still  sensitively  attuned  mind.  The  feel- 
ing was  not  analyzed,  hardly  recognized,  but  still 
intuitively  acted  upon. 

"Of  course,  dear  old  girl,  if  you  really  feel — " 
Again  Addie  trusted  to  the  spirit  of  the  sentence  to 
end  it  with  greater  taste  than  spoken  words,  which 
it  did.  "  I  don't  want  to  be  a  troublesome  buttinsky. 
Only,"  and  she  pulled  a  wry  little  mouth,  "  I  feel  this 
is  just  a  spell  —  you  know,  from  the  shock,  and  the 
—  the  unpleasantness  you  have  come  through.  And 
I  do  hate  to  have  you  do  things  while  it  lasts  that 
perhaps  you  can't  undo  afterward.  But  you  've 
always  been  so  clever  at  arranging  and  engineering 
things,  so  I  don't  believe — " 

The  look  and  tone  of  real  affection  that  accom- 
panied these  words  warmed  Elsie's  heart  to  an  extent 
that  surprised  her.  She  realized  for  the  first  time 
that  she  was  in  the  way  of  being  lonely.  She  smiled, 
a  smile  of  genuine  friendliness. 

"  I  won't  do  anything  rash,"  she  promised. 

"  Then  we  're  safe,"  with  an  assumption  of  relief. 
Addie  jumped  up.  "  And  now  tell  Annie  —  Oh, 
but  I  forgot!  Does  your  scheme  of  salvation  in- 
clude me  among  the  damned  ?  " 

"  No  —  it  does  n't,"  replied  Elsie,  shortly. 

"  Oh !     Well,  then,  tell  Annie  you  're  not  going  to 


74        IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

be  home  for  lunch.  And  hurry.  Madame  George 
is  sending  me  out  that  white  hat  this  afternoon,  and 
if  the  wing  is  n't  on  at  exactly  the  tilt  I  told  her,  it 
goes  back.  I  don't  want  it  to  come  while  I  'm 
away." 

Annie  was  upstairs  officiating  with  much  dusting 
and  shaking  in  her  master's  room;  and  Elsie,  on 
her  way  to  get  a  wrap,  informed  her  of  her  contem- 
plated absence. 

"Mr.  Leland '11  be  home  for  dinner,  won't  he?" 
inquired  that  personage  by  way  of  answer. 

"  I  suppose  so.  I  have  n't  heard  anything  yet," 
replied  Elsie. 

"  Well,  got  to  cook  that  duck,  anyway,"  with  an 
air  of  announcing  the  inevitable. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

ELSIE  took  a  wrap  from  her  wardrobe  and 
then  went  down  and  entered  the  electric.  It 
was  deeply  and  luxuriously  lined  in  a  soft  French 
gray,  and  Elsie  seated  herself  with  covert  delight. 

Addie  McKeene  drove  the  car  with  swift,  light 
precision  that  won  Elsie's  immediate  admiration. 
As  near  as  Elsie  could  judge,  she  drove  about  six 
blocks  in  all,  and  then  turned  the  machine  into  a 
narrow  cement  driveway  and  sent  it  without  any 
manceuvering  into  the  garage  at  the  back  of  the  lawn. 

Elsie's  new  home,  while  in  good  taste,  even  ap- 
proaching the  luxurious,  presented  in  comparison 
with  Mrs.  McKeene's  house  an  almost  masculine 
solidity  of  appearance.  Addie's  home  was  a  ram- 
pant reflection  of  herself.  The  living-room,  though 
of  good  size,  was  more  like  a  lady's  boudoir  than 
anything.  Apparently,  too,  all  her  life  the  little 
lady  had  been  the  recipient  of  rich  gifts  —  gifts 
whose  taste,  although  always  good,  was  immensely 
varied.  Only  in  that  way  could  the  almost  bazaar- 
like  collection  of  rugs,  cushions,  pottery,  and  statu- 
ary be  accounted  for.  At  one  end  of  the  room, 
forming  a  big  alcove,  was  the  music-room;  Elsie 

75 


76        IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

glanced  with  much  respect  at  the  polished  floor  and 
the  grand  piano. 

Shortly  after  the  two  women  had  settled  them- 
selves to  argue  the  respective  merits  of  a  Paul  Poiret 
and  a  Lucille  model  of  gown,  a  maid  came  into  the 
room,  acknowledging  Elsie's  presence  with  a  pleas- 
ant smile.  There  was  about  the  same  difference  be- 
tween this  girl  and  Annie  as  there  was  between  the 
two  houses ;  and  Elsie  wondered  in  passing  whether 
she  herself  had  discovered  and  hired  Annie.  Of 
course  Annie  was  a  good  worker.  The  state  of  the 
house  testified  to  that;  and  Elsie  had  not  as  yet 
learned  that  she  herself  was  supposed  to  do  anything 
in  connection  with  keeping  it  up.  .  And  then  she 
was  a  good  cook.  Possibly  Addie's  maid  was  not 
such  a  treasure  in  all  these  ways,  but  she  was  cer- 
tainly of  a  more  pleasant  personality.  Sallow  and 
dark,  with  dark  expressive  eyes,  she  appeared  to 
idolize  her  mistress,  and  listened  with  deferential  yet 
indulgent  affection  to  her  airily  elaborated  requests. 

"  Lottie,  I  want  you  to  get  us  just  the  very  darling- 
est  lunch.  And  Lottie,  we  don't  need  a  truly,  sit-up- 
to-the-table  lunch.  Put  it  on  our  little  table  with  all 
the  wings,  and  wheel  it  up  to  us." 

Lunch  was  well  over.  The  hat  had  arrived  and 
the  angle  of  the  wing  had  been  found  to  be  mathe- 
matically correct.  Elsie,  having  resisted  Addie's 
coaxing  to  go  down-town  with  her,  was  about  to  go 
up  to  her  room  to  chat  while  Addie  dressed,  when 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER      77 

the  telephone  bell  rang.     Addie  went  to  it  and  rested 
her  arms  nonchalantly  on  the  stand. 
"  Yes?  "     And  then,  "  Yes.     All  right." 

She  rose  and  came  back  to  Elsie,  a  half-comical 
expression  on  her  face.  She  gave  a  little  backward 
toss  of  her  head,  motioning  Elsie  to  her  late  place  at 
the  instrument.  "  It 's  Willett.  After  you  've  done 
talking,  come  on  upstairs."  She  ran  lightly  up  the 
staircase  and  out  of  hearing. 

Elsie  went  reluctantly  enough  to  the  waiting 
telephone.  "Yes?" 

"Well,  sweetheart,  how  are  you?" 

Elsie  had  already  made  up  her  mind  to  dislike 
the  owner,  but  she  could  not  help  admiring  imme- 
diately the  voice  that  traveled  to  her.  It  was  so 
deep  and  resonant.  She  disliked,  however,  the  easy 
affection  displayed  in  the  greeting;  and  her  answer 
was  sarcastic,  though  leisurely. 

"  Oh,  I  believe  I  can  be  said  to  be  out  of  imme- 
diate danger." 

There  was  a  second's  pause.  And  then  a  slight 
amused  laugh.  "  I  perceive  that  a  certain  little  lady 
is  not  in  a  very  good  humor  this  afternoon.  What 
is  the  matter,  pet?  " 

The  tone  was  very  gentle,  very  tender,  a  whole 
caress  in  itself;  Elsie  was  amazed  to  find  that  seem- 
ingly in  spite  of  herself  something  within  her  stirred 
to  meet  it.  She  was  instantly  disgusted  with  her- 
self. 


78       IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

"Nothing  —  nothing  that  can  be  expressed  just 
now,  at  all  events,"  with  indifference. 

"  Oh,  I  see,"  thoughtfully.  "  Well,  I  was  very 
careful  about  that  matter,  was  n't  I  ?  I  don't  think 
I  neglected  any  precautionary  detail.  As  far  as  I 
can  ascertain,  except  for  the  immediate  bystanders, 
no  one  was  any  the  wiser.  But,  of  course  —  I  sup- 
you  had  the  deuce  to  pay  at  home." 

"  Well  —  something  like  that,"  not  seeing  any  ad- 
vantage in  disturbing  that  impression. 

"  I  suppose  so,"  regretfully.  "  But  there  seemed 
nothing  to  do  but  take  you  home,  did  there  ?  I  was 
awfully  anxious  about  you  and  could  n't  get  any- 
thing out  of  Addie  the  next  day,  except  that  you 
were  pretty  well  yourself  again.  I  'm  so  sorry, 
darling.  It  was  an  unfortunate  business  altogether. 
But  —  well,  we  were  both  rather  upset,  distracted, 
were  n't  we  ?  And  you  know,  Elsie,"  he  paused,  and 
then  spoke  in  an  even  lower,  softer  voice,  "  if  you 
had  let  me  have  my  way  we  should  n't  have  been  at 
that  spot  just  when — "  He  paused  again.  Elsie 
was  listening  with  all  her  understanding,  and  she 
was  impatient  when  the  break  came  in  what  prom- 
ised to  be  valuable  information. 

"  Just  when  what?  "  she  demanded. 

"  Oh,  just  when  the  other  fellow  decided  to  cut  a 
corner,"  finished  Renshaw  somewhat  lamely. 

Elsie  was  quick  to  detect  the  lameness.  However, 
that  might  merely  indicate  that  he  was  more  to  blame 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER       79 

for  the  accident  than  he  had  so  far  indicated.  So 
she  asked,  "  Whom  do  you  blame  for  the  accident?  " 

"  Both.  He  cut  corners,  and  I  was  speeding,  and 
not  paying  the  attention  to  my  wheel  that  I  should." 
This  last  was  added  with  a  half -laugh.  Evidently 
there  was  some  reason  for  his  inattention  that  Elsie 
was  supposed  to  understand*  However,  she  did 
not;  and  she  could  not  wait  just  now  to  pursue  that 
particular  vein  of  research.  There  was  other  and 
more  important  information  that  she  wanted. 

"  Who  were  they  in  the  other  car?  "  she  asked. 

"  An  oldish  man  and  a  girl,"  with  a  short  laugh. 

"  Well,  but  who  ?  "  insisted  Elsie,  wondering  why 
the  laugh. 

There  was  a  moment's  silence.  And  then,  in  a 
casual  tone,  "  Calthorpe  and  his  secretary." 

Elsie  could  not  be  quite  sure.  Listening  with  at- 
tention strained  to  catch  any  possible  clue,  every  pos- 
sible inflection,  she  knew  she  might  easily  imagine 
this  thing  or  that.  Still,  it  almost  seemed  to  her 
that  the  tone  was  over  casual. 

"  Were  they  much  hurt  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no-o.  Calthorpe  was  n't  hurt  at  all.  The 
—  the  girl  was  thrown  against  the  wheel  and  her 
shoulder  hurt  —  collar-bone  fractured  or  something. 
Nothing  serious,  I  believe.  Wrhy,  sweetheart?" 

"  I  could  n't  —  or  did  n't  —  ask  Alan  any  particu- 
lars, so  I  'm  asking  you,"  replied  Elsie  with  some 
crispness. 


8o       IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

"  I  see,"  apologetically.  "  Well,  don't  bother 
your  little  head  about  them  —  the  other  parties  in 
the  accident.  They  're  all  right  and  just  as  much 
to  blame  as  we.  And  there  's  nothing  particularly 
out  of  the  way  in  my  running  you  home  at  the  end 
of  an  afternoon  in  the  city." 

That  all  depended.  But  Elsie  did  not  challenge 
the  statement.  "  What  is  the  name  of  the  girl  — 
the  secretary?  "  she  asked. 

"  This  is  quite  a  cross-examination,"  observed 
Renshaw  with  a  short  laugh.  "  Has  any  one  been 
talking  to  you?  " 

"  Of  course  not,"  sharply,  but  rather  surprised 
nevertheless.  "  How  could  any  one,  when  I  did  n't 
even  know  who  the  people  were  until  you  told  me? 
But  I  can't  understand  why  you  won't  answer  a 
straightforward  question." 

"  Oh,  certainly.  But  you  're  not  a  girl  to  bother 
with  details  as  a  rule,"  stiffly.  "  Her  name  is 
Hamby." 

"  Oh!     And  what  is  her  given  name?  " 

Renshaw  laughed  —  a  slightly  sarcastic  laugh. 
"  I  see  plainly  enough  that  you  're  running  to  earth 
some  rumor  or  theory.  Her  name  is  Una." 

It  seemed  to  Elsie  that  her  heart  gave  one  great 
leap  and  then  sank  back.  Now  she  knew  that  his 
reluctance  to  pursue  the  subject  was  real  and  not 
imaginary.  But  what  could  he  possibly  know  or 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER        81 

suspect?  What  —  ?  But  she  must  not  forget. 
She  had  to  find  that  girl. 

"Did  —  where  is  she?"  she  asked  then,  after  a 
pause  of  a  second  or  so.  "  Did  they  take  her  home, 
too?" 

"  No  —  to  some  hospital,  I  think.  There  's  a 
chance,  of  course  of  some  internal  injury.  But 
don't  worry  about  it,  dear." 

"Which  hospital?" 

"  Now,  Elsie," —  Renshaw's  voice  was  almost 
sharp  — "  it 's  foolish  for  us  to  work  in  the  dark. 
What  do  you  want  to  know  all  this  for  ?  What  are 
you  driving  at?  " 

Elsie  caught  herself  up  sharply,  and  the  quick  in- 
stinct for  self-preservation  flew  uppermost  warn- 
ingly.  On  no  account,  whatever  others  might  do  or 
think,  must  she  indicate  by  her  words  or  actions  that 
anything  out  of  the  ordinary  was  happening  —  or 
thought  of. 

"  Why,  I  think  it 's  you  that  is  so  strange,"  she 
said  almost  fretfully.  "  I  can't  see  that  I  've  asked 
any  but  very  ordinary  questions.  I  just  thought  it 
would  be  nice  if  she  were  at  a  hospital  to  call  and 
see  her  and  perhaps  take  a  few  flowers.  You  see,  I 
was  in  the  same  accident  and  got  off  so  lightly." 

"  Oh,  I  would  n't  bother,  if  I  were  you,"  promptly. 
"  I  doubt  very  much  whether  she  'd  like  it.  Prob- 
ably think  you  were  condescending.  She  —  if  you 


82       IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

want  to  do  something  sweet,  call  up  the  hospital  and 
inquire.  That  would  be  all  any  one  would  expect 
of  you.  Everything  possible  is  being  done  for  her 
anyway." 

"  Oh,  well,  perhaps  so."  Elsie  decided  not  to 
argue  the  matter.  She  would  not  even  ask  the  name 
of  the  hospital.  Now  that  she  knew  the  name  she 
could  easily  find  out  for  herself  by  calling  those  in- 
stitutions up  one  by  one.  So  many  lightning-like 
thoughts  were  darting  hither  and  thither  in  her 
brain  that  when  Renshaw  spoke  again  she  forgot 
to  be  as  courteous  as  caution  would  have  dictated. 

"  Are  you  coming  to  town  this  afternoon,  Elsie?  " 

"  No." 

"Why?" 

"  Oh-h!  Don't  feel  like  it."  The  tone  was  airy 
and  not  in  the  least  apologetic. 

"Well,  but  —  if  I  don't  see  you  to-day,  I  can't 
for  a  week  or  two,"  went  on  the  man.  "Of  course 
I  can't  take  my  part  now  on  account  of  this  wretched 
wrist,  but  I  'm  going  down  to  the  opening  tourna- 
ment just  the  same.  I  wish  there  were  some  way 
of  getting  you  down  to  it.  But  I  suppose  there 
isn't—" 

"  No,  of  course  not,"  decidedly.  And  then,  sud- 
denly recollecting  that  she  had  not  even  been  decent 
enough  to  inquire  about  his  injury,  in  fact  had  for- 
gotten that  he  had  sustained  one,  "  How  is  your 
wrist?" 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER       83 

"  Oh  —  the  swelling  has  gone  down  somewhat. 
But  it  '11  be  a  month  or  two  before  I  can  use  it  much. 
A  bad  sprain  is  worse  than  a  clean  break,  you  know." 
And  then,  "  Well,  shall  I  see  you  to-day?  " 

Elsie  laughed  slightly  to  cover  the  harshness  of 
her  attitude.  "  No,  I  think  not." 

"  Oh,  well  — "  A  moment's  silence,  in  which 
Elsie  divined  this  man  was  doing  much  thinking. 
She  was  upset,  scolded,  perhaps  threatened  —  out 
of  sorts  altogether.  A  week  or  so  to  herself  would 
perhaps  be  the  best  thing  after  all.  Then,  cheer- 
fully, "  Well,  if  you  won't,  you  won't.  I  must  wait 
till  I  get  back.  But  I  '11  think  of  you  every  day, 
sweetheart." 

"  Thank  you." 

Willett  Renshaw  laughed.  "  Such  a  sarcastic  lit- 
tle girl !  This  is  the  very  newest  thing  in  the  way 
of  a  mood,  is  n't  it?  Never  mind.  Wait  till  I  see 
you  —  until  I  get  within  reach  of  you:  I'll  settle 
all  the  moods.  Good-by  for  a  little  while,  Lily 
Girl." 

"  Good-by." 

She  hung  up,  and  stood  quietly  by  the  instrument 
for  a  moment  or  so.  Somehow  her  heart  was  beat- 
ing heavily.  Then  she  went  up  the  shallow  winding 
staircase  and,  guided  by  her  ears,  entered  a  delight- 
ful bedroom  having  an  oriel  window.  Before  a 
rosewood  duchesse  table  Mrs.  McKeene  was  criti- 
cally smoothing  off  her  face  the  last  trace  of  powder. 


84       IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

"  Well  ?  Are  you  going  down  with  me  ?  "  she 
inquired,  without  turning  her  head. 

"  No,  dear,"  replied  Elsie  gently. 

Then  Addie  did  turn  her  head  —  quickly.  She 
gazed  at  her  friend  with  frankly  curious  eyes. 
"  You  certainly  are  in  the  funniest  mood  —  for  you. 
Well !  "  She  turned  back  to  the  glass  again.  She 
was  full  of  curiosity,  dying  to  have  Elsie  make  full 
confession  of  all  that  had  transpired,  that  was  now 
actuating  her.  But  she  was  too  well-bred  to  ques- 
tion even  her  closest  chum  past  a  certain  mark.  "  I 
must  just  run  round  with  you  and  drop  you  at  your 
door,  then." 

She  did  this.  And  Elsie  entered  her  quiet  home 
with  a  sense  of  vast  relief.  Time  to  be  alone  and 
to  think. 

But  when  she  sat  down  and  tried  to  think  she  could 
not.  A  thousand  issues,  a  thousand  questions  and 
possibilities  and  fears  rushed  at  her  and  assailed  her 
like  a  horde  of  furies.  She  got  up  quickly.  She 
was  going  to  find  that  girl,  and  she  would  go  at 
once.  That  was  the  next  and  only  thing  to  do.  No 
good  thinking  about  it. 

She  went  to  the  telephone  prepared  to  call  up  all 
the  hospitals  given  in  the  classified  section  of  the 
directory.  However,  the  second  hospital  called  — 
St.  Stephen's  —  gave  her  what  she  wanted.  "  Miss 
Hamby?  Just  a  minute.  Yes,  Room  two-thirty- 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER       85 

Elsie  hung  the  receiver  up  quietly  and  then  went 
straight  up  to  dress.  No  use  hesitating.  No  use 
fearing.  This  thing  had  to  be  done. 


CHAPTER  IX 

HAVING  ridden  down-town,  Elsie  ascertained 
from  a  crossing-policeman  the  proper  car  to 
take  for  St.  Stephen's  Hospital,  also  the  way  to  the 
nearest  florist's.  Here,  at  the  cost  of  the  better 
part  of  what  appeared  to  be  her  only  capital  —  the 
five-dollar  bill  —  she  armed  herself  with  a  cluster  of 
exquisite  rosebuds.  Then  she  set  out  for  the  hos- 
pital. 

If  her  heart  sank  as  she  walked  in  a  businesslike 
way  up  the  steps  of  the  institution,  she  did  not  pause 
to  realize  it.  With  a  sort  of  grim  humor  she  felt 
that  she  was  like  a  person  bound  for  the  dentist's 
chair,  who  dares  not  pause  lest  courage  ooze  en- 
tirely away.  She  did  not  stop  at  the  office,  but 
took  the  elevator  straight  for  the  second  floor,  where 
doubtless  Room  236  would  be.  Stepping  out  of 
the  elevator,  she  went  up  to  a  nurse  who  was  sorting 
linen  out  of  a  closet  and  asked  for  the  direction  of 
236.  The  nurse  indicated  an  open  door  at  the  end 
of  the  corridor. 

Elsie  walked  up  and  stood  in  the  doorway.  The 
room  was  a  large  one,  containing  three  beds,  all  oc- 
cupied by  women,  with  a  visitor  by  each  bed.  A 
nurse  —  a  probationer,  evidently,  by  her  blue  striped 

86 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER       87 

gown  —  observing  Elsie's  hesitation,  came  toward 
her  with  a  pleasant,  inquiring  smile.  Elsie  spoke 
almost  under  her  breath :  "  Miss  Hamby  ?  " 

"  Yes."  The  nurse  turned  toward  the  bed  near- 
est the  window.  By  it  sat  an  elderly  woman,  of 
plain  yet  stylish  appearance.  It  flashed  across 
Elsie's  alert  mind  that  this  must  be  the  mother  and 
she  looked  at  her  with  startled,  anxious  eyes.  She 
could  not  tell  why,  but  she  was  conscious  of  a  sense 
of  vast  relief,  as  she  scanned  the  thin,  somewhat 
querulous  face,  to  find  that  she  felt  not  the  slightest 
thrill  of  awakening  memory,  not  the  faintest  quiver 
of  emotion  or  interest.  This  mother,  so  strangely 
lost  to  her,  stirred  no  longing  in  her  heart.  Merci- 
fully, memory  had  lost  its  hold  upon  what  the  heart 
could  not  recover.  Then  Elsie's  gaze  passed  to  the 
bed.  She  had  schooled  herself  to  meet  the  shock 
of  this  moment  but  she  could  not  suppress  an  in- 
drawn breath  of  distress  as  she  looked  down  at  her 
own  face  upon  the  pillow. 

The  girl  in  the  bed  lay  with  her  eyes  closed,  her 
dark,  almost  black  hair  drawn  back  smoothly  from 
the  pale,  clear  skin  above  the  level  brows.  Elsie 
thought  of  that  other  moment  when  this  face  should 
have  looked  back  at  her  from  Mrs.  Leland's  mirror 
instead  of  the  unknown  features  which  had  greeted 
her.  The  woman  before  her  had  doubtless  known  a 
similar  agonizing  moment.  Now  they  were  face  to 
face. 


88       IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

At  the  same  moment  Mrs.  Hamby  spoke  to  her 
daughter. 

"Una!" 

Una  Hamby  opened  her  eyes.  They  met  the  ap- 
pealing gaze  of  the  visitor.  Elsie  knew  she  was  not 
imagining  the  instant  electrical  stiffening  of  the  girl's 
whole  body,  the  flame  of  resentment  that  shot  into 
the  black-lashed  gray  eyes.  She  did  not  attempt  to 
smile,  but  her  lips  set  in  a  hard  line  as  she  lay  and 
looked  up  at  her  caller.  Almost  fascinated  by  the 
resentful  stare,  Elsie  was  still  conscious  of  the 
mother's  open-eyed  astonishment.  After  a  moment 
Elsie  made  an  effort  to  break  the  spell.  She  smiled 
down  on  the  still  unsmiling  girl. 

"  I  thought  I  'd  like  to  come  and  see  how  you  were 
getting  along."  Then  suddenly  recollecting  that  she 
had  not  let  herself  be  announced,  and  uttering  the 
name  with  difficulty,  "  I  'm  Mrs.  Leland  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  know  who  you  are,"  said  Una  Hamby, 
with  a  slight  but  almost  insolent  uplifting  of  the 
brows. 

"I  —  I  — "  Elsie  felt  she  was  almost  losing 
grasp  of  the  situation.  "Are  you  much  hurt?" 

"  No." 

The  girl  lay  and  looked  her  over  line  by  line,  as 
if  satisfying  a  long-felt  curiosity.  Her  lips  lay  in 
a  faintly  satirical,  contemplative  smile,  and  Elsie  felt 
she  was  hating  each  line  as  she  looked  at  it. 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER        89 

"  I  am  so  sorry  you  were  hurt  at  all,"  went  on 
Elsie.  A  sort  of  resentment,  a  sense  of  being  put 
on  her  mettle,  was  coming  to  her  rescue.  She  was 
only  human  and  she  would  not  allow  herself  to  be 
nonplussed  by  such  absolute  rudeness.  Whatever 
had  happened,  she  was  not  to  blame;  no  reasonable 
person  could  possibly  think  she  was.  She  was  con- 
scious of  that  much  in  spite  of  her  embarrassment. 
"  I  got  off  so  lightly  myself  — "  she  finished,  laugh- 
ing slightly. 

Una  Hamby  smiled  too,  but  it  was  not  a  pleasant 
smile.  "  Yes,  you  always  have  gotten  off  lightly, 
haven't  you?  " 

"  Why,  I  don't  know."  This  was  true  enough. 
But  Una's  query  plainly  contained  some  unpleasant 
thrust,  and  in  order  to  ignore  it,  Elsie  took  the  rose- 
buds out  of  the  hollow  of  her  arm  and  looked  about 
for  a  place  to  lay  them.  The  nurse  was  attracted 
by  the  movement  and  came  up  to  her.  Elsie  placed 
the  flowers  in  her  hands. 

"  Oh,  are  n't  they  exquisite !  "  exclaimed  the  girl 
in  sincere  admiration.  "  Shall  I  put  them  in  water 
for  you,  Miss  Hamby?  " 

"If  you  like.  I  suppose  the  others  will  enjoy 
them." 

With  the  intuition  of  her  kind  the  nurse  glanced 
swiftly  from  patient  to  visitor  and,  perceiving  some- 
thing entirely  out  of  her  province,  moved  quickly 


90       IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

away  in  search  of  a  vase.  But  before  she  went  she 
drew  up  a  chair  for  the  visitor,  however  unwelcome 
she  might  be. 

Elsie  seated  herself,  not  because  she  felt  she  was 
welcome  to  do  so,  but  because  for  the  moment  she 
felt  positively  weak.  Her  knees  trembled  and  her 
face  burned  painfully.  Still  she  was  not  going  to 
admit  defeat.  She  looked  at  the  puzzled  woman 
sitting,  near  her  at  the  bedside. 

"  And  this  is  Mrs.  Hamby?  " 

Una  did  not  trouble  to  reply ;  and  though  feeling 
obliged  to  follow  more  or  less  her  daughter's  uncivil 
lead,  Mrs.  Hamby  was  nevertheless  constrained  to 
reply  to  what  appeared  to  be  a  perfectly  ordinary  and 
civil  question :  "  Yes." 

Silence  fell  again.  And  it  became  apparent  to 
Elsie  that  there  was  simply  nothing  left  to  do  but  to 
take  as  graceful  a  departure  as  possible.  She  could 
not  —  dared  not  —  show  her  hand  in  the  face  of 
such  determined  animosity.  Such  senseless  ani- 
mosity, surely!  She  looked  deprecatingly,  almost 
pleadingly,  at  the  hard,  resentful  face  of  the  girl. 

"  Well,  I  see  we  're  not  going  to  be  able  to  —  to 
talk  — "  she  said  lamely.     "  I  think  it 's  a  pity.     I  - 
I  'm  sorry  you  feel  this  way  toward  me.     I  thought 
perhaps  we  could — "  she  stopped.     She  must  not 
be  too  rash. 

Una's  gray  eyes  narrowed.     "  I  'm  not  going  to 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER       91 

try  to  be  civil  when  I  don't  feel  it,"  she  said.  "  Why 
should  I  ?  And  so  I  may  as  well  tell  you  that  I  don't 
see  what  you  came  for.  You  must  know  very  well 
there  is  nothing  I  'd  talk  to  you  about." 

"  Well,  whom  would  you  talk  to  about  it,  then?  " 
demanded  Elsie  almost  in  desperation,  and  forget- 
ting all  caution  for  the  moment. 

"  That 's  entirely  my  business,"  flashed  the  girl. 

"  Oh,  well."  Elsie  rose.  She  was  angry,  trem- 
bling, sick  at  heart,  and  suddenly  anxious  to  get 
away.  "  Remember  I  did  my  best.  I  hope  your 
shoulder  will  soon  be  healed.  Good-by." 

"  Good-by." 

The  farewell  sounded  much  more  like  an  order  to 
be  gone  and  the.  mother  supplemented  it  with  a  faint 
mumble.  Then  Elsie  walked  swiftly  away,  receiv- 
ing, however,  a  specially  pleasant  "  good  afternoon  " 
at  the  door  from  the  nurse. 

But  she  had  hardly  left  the  room  when  she  turned 
back  resolutely  and  stood  again  at  the  door. 

"  Mrs.  Hamby,"  she  called,  "  may  I  speak  with 
you  just  a  moment?  " 

Mrs.  Hamby  looked  inquiringly  at  her  daughter, 
but  Una  gave  no  restraining  sign.  Mrs.  Hamby 
rose  and  passed  into  the  hall. 

"  Mrs.  Hamby,"  Elsie  began  swiftly,  "  is  your 
daughter  quite  herself?" 

"  I  'm  sure  she  is,"  answered  the  elder  woman, 


92        IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

with  hostility  in  her  tone ;  "  I  don't  know  why  she 
should  be  unfriendly  to  you,  Mrs.  Leland,  if  that 's 
what  you  mean." 

"  Yes,"  Elsie  said,  "  I  did  not  expect  it  and  1 
wondered  if  perhaps  the  accident  had  seemed  to  have 
some  queer  effects  in  any  way."  As  Una's  mother 
shook  her  head  Elsie  pursued  the  advantage  of  the 
moment.  "  I  wondered  if  she  recognized  you,  for 
instance,  and  remembered  everything  perfectly." 

"  Oh,  yes  indeed,"  answered  Mrs.  Hamby,  de- 
fensively. "  Her  mind  's  perfectly  normal.  I  guess 
she  remembers  too  much,  maybe.  She  must  have 
good  reasons  for  her  actions  and  it 's  none  of  my 
business,  anyway." 

Mrs.  Hamby's  voice  was  growing  loud  and  Elsie 
spoke  quickly. 

"  I  am  very  glad  that  the  accident  was  no  more 
serious  and  I  sincerely  hope  that  her  recovery  will 
be  rapid.  Thank  you  very  much." 

She  got  home  without  knowing  at  all  how  she  did 
it;  went  straight  up  to  her  room,  threw  off  her  coat 
and  hat,  and  sat  —  almost  collapsed  —  in  the  chintz 
chair.  She  laid  her  head  back  and  closed  her  eyes 
and  tried  desperately  to  relax,  to  calm  herself.  But 
her  mind  was  a  perfect  maelstrom  —  nothing  less. 
Anger,  fear,  hopeless,  puzzling  dread  of  she  knew 
not  what  —  she  was  milled  round  hither  and  thither, 
until  presently  it  seemed  to  Elsie  that  each  thought 
as  it  darted  through  her  brain  was  a  fiery  pain. 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER       93 

Suddenly  she  sat  up.  It  was  after  five  o'clock. 
She  was  not  dressed  and  Alan  would  be  home.  He 
must  not  see  her  in  this  distraught  condition.  She 
must,  must,  learn  to  control  her  mind.  When  a  sub- 
ject threatened  to  overwhelm  her  she  must  learn  to 
put  it  away  at  least  for  the  time  being.  She  must, 
or  else  she  would  have  no  mind  left  to  control. 

So,  as  she  dressed  for  dinner,  and  the  girl  in  the 
hospital  bed  rose  up  before  her,  she  would  resolutely 
down  the  image  and  put  it  away.  Once,  as  she 
dressed  her  hair,  and  criticized  with  fresh  delight  the 
soft  waves  that  fell  over  forehead  and  ears,  noting 
the  rich  gleams  thrown  from  its  polished  beauty,  she 
really  did  for  the  time  being  forget  her  trouble.  She 
had  been  repulsed  by  the  rightful  owner  of  this 
beauty,  to  whom  she  had  gone  in  honorable  distress 
as  having  innocently  usurped  another's  place.  Now 
the  memory  of  that  repulse  quieted  her  conscience. 
Moreover,  another  comfort  came  to  her,  unguessed. 
She  put  on  the  blue  crepe  de  chine,  because  above 
the  wonderful,  deep  color  of  it  her  skin  seemed  to 
pulse  with  delicate  tints.  She  was  dressing  for  Alan 
Leland  —  and  did  not  know  it.  Not  even  when,  on 
going  downstairs  and  perceiving  that  Annie  was  evi- 
dently preparing  to  serve  dinner  before  long,  she 
went  to  the  window  to  watch  for  his  arrival. 

He  came,  driving  a  substantial,  well-kept  looking 
car,  which  he  turned  with  the  unhesitating  ease  of 
long  practice  into  the  garage  runway.  In  a  few 


94       IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

minutes  he  came  into  the  house  through  the  French 
window  and  crossed  the  morning-room.  Because  it 
seemed  ridiculous  to  do  anything  else,  Elsie  smiled 
and  said,  "  Good  evening." 

He  returned  the  salutation  in  an  equally  pleasant 
way,  his  eyes,  quiet  and  unmoved  but  keenly  apprais- 
ing, traveling  over  her  in  one  instant  glance.  Then 
he  went  on  upstairs,  leaving  Elsie  tense  with  some 
hidden,  inward  stress  that  she  could  not  define. 

She  was  very  nervous  as  she  sat  down  at  dinner 
with  this  man  who  was  everything'  and  nothing  to 
her.  He  carved  easily  and  waited  on  her  pleasantly 
and  naturally;  told  her  of  several  of  the  day's  hap- 
penings in  the  city.  In  his  manner  there  was  neither 
anger  nor  resentment,  nor  the  least  appearance  of 
effort  to  be  pleasant.  Only  the  most  complete  indif- 
ference, broken  and  slightly  veiled  by  the  necessary 
courtesies  of  the  occasion. 

After  dinner  he  smoked  a  cigar,  standing  at  the 
open  French  window;  then  got  a  book,  pencil,  and 
note-book  and  sat  down,  apparently  to  study. 

Elsie  sat  down,  too,  with  a  book  on  her  knee,  alter- 
nating between  states  of  defiance  and  dread.  Then 
she  would  watch  Alan  and  speculate.  As  she  did 
this  —  perhaps  because  of  this  —  her  resentment 
slowly  died  away.  She  wondered  whether  that  girl 
in  the  hospital  loved  this  man  whom  now  she  could 
not  even  approach.  No  doubt  she  still  did.  She 
surely  would  in  spite  of  the  silly  affair  with  Willett 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER       95 

Renshaw.  Following  this  thought  pity  began  to  get 
the  better  of  anger.  The  fiercely  resentful  but  still 
desolate  figure  on  the  cot  rose  before  her,  and  she 
tried  to  understand  what  others  thought.  This 
beautiful  home,  the  handsome  clothes,  this  man,  all 
were  surely  that  girl's;  but  she,  Elsie,  had  possession 
of  them.  No  wonder  Una  was  resentful.  It  was 
foolish,  of  course.  Neither  was  to  blame.  But 
Elsie  wondered  after  all  whether  she,  in  the  situa- 
tion of  that  other,  would  have  done  any  better,  been 
any  more  reasonable.  If  she,  shot  suddenly  into 
luxury  and  beauty,  had  felt  desolate  and  forlorn, 
what  must  that  poor  girl  feel  who  was  thrust  into 
what  was  surely  for  her  utter  desolation !  No  won- 
der she  was  unreasonable.  Probably  she  was  half 
out  of  her  mind,  though  her  mother  could  not  guess 
it. 

Elsie  lay  awake  all  the  first  half  of  that  night. 
Hour*  after  hour  she  stared  into  the  darkness.  But 
she  was  quieter  and  her  brain  was  clearer.  The 
more  she  thought  of  it,  the  more  she  felt  that  she 
ought  to  have  made  greater  efforts  to  approach  Una 
Hamby,  that  she  ought  not  to  have  given  way  to 
resentment  so  soon.  She  had  everything,  where  the 
other  girl  had  nothing.  She  must  not  forget  that. 
It  was  more  especially  her  place  to  help,  to  act.  She 
would.  She  would  go  back,  and  despite  rebuffs  she 
would  somehow  contrive  to  let  Una  know  that  she 
was  fair-minded,  that  she  wanted  to  do  anything  she 


96       IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

could  to  right  a  wrong.  Well,  not  a  wrong,  for 
certainly  neither  was  to  blame.  And  as  yet  she  could 
not  see  —  could  not  get  even  a  dim  idea  after  hour 
upon  hour  of  thought  and  puzzling  —  what  could  be 
done,  what  either  could  do,  in  so  strange  and  mad  a 
case.  Could  anything  right  so  great  a  muddle,  short 
of  the  death  of  one  or  both? 

Well,  at  least  Una  should  have  a  chance  to  say 
what  she  wanted.  Elsie  would  meet  her  more  than 
half-way,  would  go  just  as  far  as  she  dared,  to  show 
she  was  at  least  honest  in  mind.  It  would  be  hard 
but  she  would  go  back  to  the  hospital.  To-morrow 
she  would  go. 


CHAPTER  X 

VISITING  hours  at  the  hospital  were  from  two 
to  five;  and  a  few  minutes  after  two  Elsie  was 
again  walking  up  the  steps  of  St.  Stephen's.  She 
sighed  as  she  did  so.  Would  the  day  ever  come 
when,  having  made  every  utmost  effort  that  could 
be  required  of  her,  she  would  be  acquitted  and  left 
to  live  —  whatever  life  was  left  her  —  in  peace? 

She  was  relieved  on  entering  Room  236  to  find 
that  Mrs.  Hamby  was  not  yet  there.  Neither  was 
the  nurse  in  the  room  at  the  moment.  These  two 
things  helped  to  relieve  her  of  at  least  a  certain 
amount  of  embarrassment.  She  walked  quietly  over 
to  Una  Hamby's  bed,  drew  a  chair  close  to  the  head 
of  it,  and  sat  quietly  down.  Una  had  seen  her  the 
moment  she  entered  the  doorway  and  she  watched 
every  movement  in  tight-lipped  silence  and  with  a 
wide-eyed  stare.  Obviously  she  was  amazed  at  this 
speedy  second  visit;  and  seemingly,  too,  she  sensed 
some  determination,  some  special  mission,  on  her 
visitor's  part. 

Elsie  leaned  slightly  toward  her  and  spoke  in  al- 
most an  undertone : 

"  I  know  you  don't  want  to  see  me  again.  But  I 
97 


98       IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

had  to  come.  When  I  got  home  and  thought  things 
over  I  was  sorry  I  gave  way  to  temper  so  soon.  I 
thought  perhaps  you,  too,  might  have  been  thinking 
things  over  and  might  have  seen  that  you  were  — 
were  a  little  unreasonable."  She  paused.  But  if 
Una's  feelings  toward  her  visitor  had  undergone  any 
modification  since  the  night  before,  the  effect  was 
not  apparent  in  the  expression  of  the  cold  gray  eyes, 
the  contemptuous  curve  of  the  lips.  But  Elsie  has- 
tened on.  She  was  going  to  say  what  she  felt,  what 
she  meant,  whatever  came  of  it. 

"  I  imagined  myself  situated  as  you  are,"  she 
went  on  then.  "  And  I  saw  that  unless  you  did  think 
things  carefully  over,  and  so  see  how  unreasonable 
it  is,  you  might  easily  feel  —  as  you  do,  toward  me. 
Of  course,  I  do  seem  to  have  everything.  But  what 
is  the  use  of  blaming  me?  I  could  n't  help  what  — 
what  was  thrust  upon  me." 

At  the  last  words  of  this  more  or  less  faltering 
appeal  Una  Hamby's  eyes  fairly  blazed.  She  kept 
them  fixedly  on  the  face  of  the  woman  before  her. 
The  heartsick  feeling  began  to  creep  back  over  Elsie ; 
but  she  was  determined.  This  time  she  was  going 
to  do  all  she  dared. 

"  Just  think  a  minute,"  she  pleaded.  "  Forget 
your  anger  toward  me  for  a  while.  Just  think  how 
much  better  it  would  be  for  us  to  talk  things  over. 
Why,  it 's  the  only  way.  And  really,  really,  I  want 
to  do  right,  to  do  all  I  can.  I  have  thought  and 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER       99 

thought,  and  I  can't  see —  But  tell  me  what  you 
think.  If  you  will  tell  me — " 

"  No."  Una  spoke  the  word  in  a  low  tone,  but  so 
vibrant  with  intense  feeling  was  it,  that  Elsie  felt  it 
must  have  sounded  all  over  the  room.  "  I  '11  tell  you 
nothing."  She  laughed,  a  mirthless  but  exultant 
laugh.  "  I  thought  as  much.  You  're  scared,  badly 
scared.  And  you  thought  you  'd  come  here,  and  by 
acting  the  hypocrite  get  me  to  tell  you  of  my  inten- 
tions so  that  you  could  head  them  off  to  your  own 
advantage." 

"I  didn't.  That's  not  true."  Elsie  made  a 
quick  protesting  movement.  "  I  am  frightened,  just 
as  you  must  be,  but  just  now  I  was  only  thinking  of 
helping  you." 

Una's  lips  curled  in  disbelief.  "  Thanks  very 
much.  When  I  am  ready  for  your  help  I  shall  take 
it.  But  it  won't  be  at  all  in  your  way.  It  will  be  in 
my  own  time  and  in  my  own  way." 

So  strictly  personal,  so  insulting  almost,  did  this 
girl's  animosity  seem,  that  Elsie  felt  her  temper  ris- 
ing again.  Probably  it  was  a  temper  none  too  easy 
to  control  at  the  best. 

"  You  are  foolish,"  she  said  in  a  very  low  voice 
and  very  curtly.  "  Evidently  you  have  n't  the  power 
to  think  round  a  question.  You  seem  not  to  realize 
the  terrible  danger  of  your  position.  What  can  you 
gain  by  an  attitude  like  this?  You  will  have  only 
yourself  to  blame  if,  when  the  time  comes,  you  have 


ioo     IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

an  unscrupulous  woman  to  deal  with,  instead  of  one 
who  wants,  who  is  trying,  to  think  and  do  somewhere 
near  right.  As  near  as  we  can  come  to  it,  anyway. 
You  should  remember  that  at  present  I  have  the 
upper  hand.  And  though  it  is  evident  you  have  the 
memories  of  — " 

"Memories!  Oh!"  Una  laughed  —  a  little, 
choking  laugh.  "  Yes.  I  can  remember  —  every- 
thing. But  memory  will  have  nothing  to  do  with  it. 
I  shall  have  proof." 

"  No  proof  that  you  can  bring  can  take  away 
from  me  what  —  what  I  have  if  I  choose  to  keep 
it,"  Elsie  replied  sharply. 

"  But  I  can  ruin  you  so  that  the  possession  of  it 
will  do  you  little  good." 

"  Maybe,"  agreed  Elsie,  wearily.  "  But  I  don't 
know.  Somehow  I  feel  there  is  a  limit  to  the  harm 
one  person  is  permitted  to  do  another." 

"  Does  n't  seem  so,"  sarcastically. 

Elsie  sat  silent  for  a  moment  or  so.  Evidently 
she  was  to  fail  again  —  fail  in  every  way,  either  to 
impress  this  girl  or  to  keep  her  temper.  She  sighed. 

"  Then  you  are  determined  that  you  won't  — 
won't  meet  me  half-way  and  —  talk  things  over?" 

"  I  certainly  am  determined,"  looking  at  her  with 
straight,  scornful  eyes.  "  So  please  take  my  word 
for  it  and  don't  come  here  again.  People  are  not 
helpless,  at  the  mercy  of  others,  even  if  they  are  in 
a  hospital,  and  I  won't  be  annoyed  by  you.  I  hate 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER      101 

maudlin  stuff.  I  hated  you  before  you  came,  but 
now  I  despise  you.  I  did  think  you  had  backbone 
enough  at  least  to  stand  up  and  play  your  part." 

Elsie  got  up.  She  looked  down  on  the  girl  with  a 
quiet  smile.  "  I  have,"  she  said.  "  From  now  on 
that  is  just  what  I  shall  do  —  attend  to  my  part. 
And  I  think,  when  the  time  comes,  I  shall  be  ac- 
quitted of  all  blame  where  you  are  concerned." 

"  No  doubt  —  by  yourself." 

"  You  're  so  absolutely  unreasonable,"  flashed  out 
Elsie  in  sheer  exasperation.  It  was  useless ;  but  this 
girl's  attitude  toward  her,  dangerous  as  it  must  be, 
was  so  utterly  childish  and  senseless  that  she  could 
not  restrain  herself.  "  I  can't  see  how  in  the  world 
you  can  blame  me." 

"  It  is  heartless  of  me,"  agreed  Una  scoffingly, 
"  when  of  course  the  universe  is  made  for  your 
taking." 

"Oh!"  Elsie  gave  a  little  gesture  of  hopeless 
impatience  and  turned  to  go.  "  Well,  good-by,  Una 
Hamby." 

She  uttered  the  name  more  to  hear  it  herself  than 
anything.  Henceforth,  as  far  as  she  was  concerned, 
that  was  what  the  girl  should  be. 

"  Adieu,  Elsie  Leland,"  returned  Una  mockingly. 

Elsie  turned  away.  On  her  way  toward  the  door 
she  was  called  by  the  woman  in  the  bed  nearest  the 
door.  Quick,  almost  greedy  to  grasp  at  any  sign 
of  friendliness,  Elsie  paused  and  smiled.  The 


102      IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

woman,  an  elderly  person  with  a  mild  face,  motioned 
to  the  little  table  at  the  side  of  her  bed  upon  which 
stood  the  rosebuds. 

"  She  —  your  friend  —  does  n't  care  for  flowers, 
I  suppose,"  she  said,  "  so  Nurse  gave  them  to  me. 
I  wanted  you  to  know  how  I  am  enjoying  them." 

"  I  'm  so  glad."  Elsie's  smile  was  whole-hearted 
and  sweet.  "  They  have  fulfilled  their  mission." 

"  Yes  —  the  wonderful,  sweet  things,"  breathed 
the  woman,  glancing  adoringly  at  them.  "  I  lie  here 
and  just  marvel  and  marvel  at  them." 

Elsie  looked  at  her.  The  face  was  worn  and  pale 
but  placid.  "Are  you  getting  well  fast?"  she  in- 
quired. "  Do  you  expect  soon  to  be  out  of  here?  " 

"  I  fell  and  fractured  my  hip,"  answered  the 
woman  with  a  nod  and  a  smile.  "  No,  I  shall  have 
to  be  here  quite  a  while  yet." 

<(  Oh !  Well,  I  hope  you  will  be  well  as  soon  as 
possible,"  said  Elsie.  With  a  smile  and  the  slightest 
little  friendly  pat  on  the  hand  that  lay  on  the  bed, 
Elsie  passed  on  out  into  the  corridor.  It  was  a  very 
slight  incident,  but  somehow  it  comforted  her  out  of 
proportion  to  its  importance. 

As  she  went  home  and  as  she  dressed  for  dinner 
Elsie  was  conscious  of  a  sharp  contradiction.  On 
the  one  hand  she  experienced  a  distinct  sense  of  re- 
lief. Una  Hamby  had  relieved  her  of  all  responsi- 
bility as  far  as  any  decision  concerning  her  went. 
On  the  other  hand,  the  girl  had  increased  Elsie's 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER       103 

sense  of  dread.  The  shadow  of  this  inimical  per- 
sonality would  be  ever  behind  Elsie  and  the  sword  of 
threatened  vengeance  suspended  above  her  head. 
And  Una  was  doubly  equipped ;  for  she  had  memory, 
the  memories  of  both,  which  gave  her  full  knowledge 
of  Elsie's  past  and  enabled  her  to  play  Una's  part 
in  life  with  perfect  ease.  Elsie  could  not  even  specu- 
late as  to  how  Una  would  begin  to  work.  If  she 
told  only  the  truth  no  one  would  believe  her,  and 
Elsie  doubted  whether  even  Una  would  be  foolish 
enough  for  that.  No,  she  could  not  guess  how  Una 
would  work ;  and  in  the  uncertainty  lay  her  greatest 
dread. 

As  she  thought  and  thought  Elsie  was  alarmed 
again  at  the  lightning-like  pains  that  from  time  to 
time  shot  through  her  head.  Her  eye-sockets  felt 
like  fiery  caverns.  It  was  time  to  call  a  halt.  She 
must  reduce  things  to  their  simplest  possible  terms, 
give  herself  a  working  formula,  and  stick  to  it.  She 
must;  otherwise  brain  fever  at  the  least,  or  perhaps 
madness,  lay  not  so  far  ahead  of  her. 

Still,  after  dinner,  as  she  and  Alan  sat  reading  — 
presumably,  on  Elsie's  part  —  she  was  at  it  again, 
thinking,  turning,  twisting.  She  wondered  — 
Why  could  she  not  run  away  while  yet  she  was  safe  ? 
What  could  she  do  to  earn  a  living?  Not  a  vestige 
of  stenography  remained  in  her  memory.  The  other 
woman  had  that,  along  with  recognition  of  her 
mother  and  countless  other  things.  She  thought  of 


104      IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

distant  cities;  of  cloak-and-suit  models;  of  sales- 
ladies in  department  stores;  of  factories  many  and 
various  —  turning  ideas  and  images  over  in  her  mind 
like  so  much  rubbish  in  an  attic.  Something  must 
be  found.  The  present  situation  was  intolerable. 

Then,  suddenly  —  as  if  a  child,  turning  hurriedly 
and  petulantly  the  leaves  of  a  picture-book,  had  seen 
the  book  quietly  closed  and  removed  —  it  was  borne 
in  on  her  that  she  had  not  to  do  anything.  How 
soon  she  had  forgotten  the  startling  lesson  that  had 
been  given  her !  What  had  she  had  to  do  with  com- 
ing here  ?  Nothing.  And  she  could  not  believe  she 
had  been  placed  in  this  set  of  circumstances  just  for 
the  purpose  of  scrambling  out  of  them.  No  doubt 
she  could  do  that  —  wilfully  get  up  and  go.  That 
much  freedom  of  action  was  hers.  It  would  also  be 
hers  to  take  the  consequences  of  whatever  she  did. 
No.  All  she  had  to  do  —  all  she  dared  to  do  —  was 
her  very  utmost  best  with  each  amazing  day  as  it 
came.  The  outcome  was  not  hers  to  meddle  with. 

This  thought,  which  amounted  to  a  profound  con- 
viction, settled  into  Elsie's  mind  with  a  sense  of 
power  and  peace.  It  replaced  with  a  feeling  of 
security  and  authority  the  previous  impatience, 
wounded  pride,  and  uncertainty.  She  looked  at 
Alan.  Even  this  man  —  she  had  not  been  brought 
into  his  life  for  nothing;  nor  he  into  hers.  She  was 
sure  of  it  —  sure  of  it !  Perhaps,  even,  it  would  be 
given  to  her  to  win  his  respect, 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER      105 

Strange  are  the  ways  of  spirit,  of  which  thought 
must  always  be  the  mode  of  transit.  So  strong  and 
insistent  was  the  voiceless  call  and  demand  of  this 
woman  upon  him,  that  Alan  Leland  lost  his  hold 
upon  the  train  of  thought  he  was  following  in  con- 
nection with  the  work  he  was  doing.  Deciding  that 
he  must  be  tired,  he  closed  the  book ;  and  not  know- 
ing why,  turned  and  glanced  at  Elsie.  At  first  it 
was  a  casual  glance ;  and  then  he  looked  at  her  curi- 
ously. Her  hands  were  folded  on  the  book  on  her 
lap,  her  lips  parted  in  a  faint,  sweet  smile,  her  eyes 
wide  and  living. 

Leland  turned  his  eyes  away  and  sat  and  thought 
also.  He  had  no  doubts  whatever  of  whom  she  was 
thinking ;  but  even  so,  he  was  impressed  with  the  in- 
spired beauty  of  her  face.  Perhaps  this  time  it  was 
not  merely  the  added  gaiety  her  soul  craved,  but 
really  something  deeper,  better.  It  was  hard  for 
him  to  credit  it  —  of  the  Elsie  of  the  last  year  or  so. 
But  still  it  was  said  that  real  love,  once  it  was  felt, 
reformed  as  well  as  informed.  Once,  in  the  first 
happy  months  of  their  married  life,  it  had  seemed  as 
if  love  for  himself  were  going  to  do  this  work  for 
the  gay  young  girl,  reared  as  she  had  been  in  pleas- 
ure and  selfishness.  And  he  had  hoped  so  much 
from  the  little  child  that  had  been  about  to  come  to 
them,  but  —  Oh,  well,  what  was  the  use  of  going 
over  that  again !  Only  that  perhaps,  instead  of  mak- 
ing it  hard  for  her,  making  it  a  matter  of  more  or 


106     IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

less  disgrace  if  she  chose,  he  ought  to  try  to  discover 
some  way  of  releasing  her  himself  and  so  giving  her 
a  fair  chance.  Some  night,  when  his  mind  was 
clearer  and  he  was  not  so  tired,  he  would  think  the 
matter  carefully  and  fairly  over. 


CHAPTER  XI 

ELSIE  came  in  out  of  the  garden  one  morning 
to  find  Alan  at  the  desk  in  the  living-room.  It 
was  the  third  of  the  month,  though  she  had  not  recol- 
lected the  fact.  He  called  to  her  as  she  came  in: 
"Just  a  moment,  Elsie." 

Elsie  approached,  noticing  as  she  did  so  that  he 
had  a  series  of  accounts,  or  documents  of  that  kind, 
spread  out  before  him. 

"  Annie  is  slowly  but  surely  creeping  up,  month 
by  month,"  he  observed,  with  a  smile  of  grim  amuse- 
ment. "  I  hope  she  has  a  limit  and  that  we  're  pretty 
near  it.  Of  course  she  's  a  good  cook  and  a  first- 
class  servant,  and  all  that.  But —  Perhaps  you 
can  think  of  a  way  of  suggesting  to  her  that  she 
might  be  a  little  more  artistic.  Tell  her  proportion 
is  one  of  the  first  requirements  of  art." 

He  handed  over  a  bunch  of  accounts,  mingled  with 
checks,  which  Elsie  received  without  comment,  as 
she  received  everything  and  anything  nowadays. 

"  Are  you  out  of  house  cash  ?  "  he  inquired. 

Elsie  nodded.  With  the  exception  of  the  five- 
dollar  bill,  she  had  not  been  able  to  discover  any 
cash  for  whatever  purpose  among  her  predecessor's 
effects. 

Alan  signed  a  blank  check  and. handed  it  to  her. 
107 


io8     IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

She  took  it  with  a  slight  formal  word  of  thanks  and 
he  glanced  at  her  as  he  gathered  the  papers  together 
on  the  desk.  She  certainly  rather  surprised  him. 
She  was  not  sulking ;  her  face  was  quiet  and  purpose- 
ful. There  was  something  about  her  lately  that  he 
could  neither  describe  nor  account  for. 

When  Alan  was  gone  Elsie  sat  down  with  the  ac- 
counts and  began  a  thorough  investigation.  Her 
face  burned  painfully.  She  —  well,  yes,  it  was  she 
now  —  was  evidently  not  wife  enough  to  prevent 
this  man  being  swindled  by  a  servant. 

She  spread  out  the  offending  accounts  —  the 
grocer,  the  butcher,  the  creamery,  gas,  electricity, 
etc.  Elsie  did  not  know  much  about  the  cost  of  run- 
ning a  house  of  this  size;  but  she  felt  sure,  neverthe- 
less, that  the  sums  she  looked  at  were  out  of  all  pro- 
portion for  three  people.  She  looked  at  the  cream- 
ery bill  and  counted  —  and  it  was  just  for  the 
current  month  — twenty-three  pounds  of  butter 
alone.  Her  rage  and  disgust  increased  as  she  looked 
things  over.  Evidently  Annie  was  thoroughly  dis- 
honest and  unscrupulous  ;'and  the  fact  that  her  prede- 
cessor had  evidently  carelessly  left  everything  to  her 
made  matters  to  Elsie's  way  of  thinking  that  much 
worse.  The  checks  that  Alan  had  given  her  corre- 
sponded with  each  amount  called  for ;  and  one  —  for 
fifty  dollars  —  was  made  out  to  herself.  She  did 
not  doubt,  from  what  Addie  McKeene  had  said,  that 
this  was  her  own  personal  allowance. 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER      109 

She  picked  up  the  bills  and  went  into  the  kitchen. 
She  was  rapidly  becoming  more  fearless  in  her  grasp 
of  things.  And  in  any  case  disgust  overcame  any 
scruple  she  might  have  had  against  antagonizing  a 
member  of  her  new  surroundings. 

"  Annie,"  she  began.  And  Annie,  who  was  wash- 
ing dishes  to  a  humming  accompaniment,  cut  the  ac- 
companiment short  and  gazed  at  her  mistress. 
'  These  bills  get  worse  and  worse  each  month. 
They  're  simply  ridiculous  and  will  have  to  be  cut 
down." 

"  Master  been  kicking?  "  inquired  Annie  with  an 
air  of  accustomed  wisdom. 

"  That 's  not  the  question,"  returned  Elsie  curtly. 
"  The  thing  is,  there  is  something  entirely  wrong 
somewhere.  And  it 's  going  to  stop.  Have  you  got 
all  last  month's  slips?  " 

"  Oh,  no,"  replied  Annie  with  sulky  disdain. 
"  Only  some  of  them." 

"  Why  —  How  is  that  ?  Don't  you  keep 
them?" 

"  Don't  always  come,"  explained  Annie  with  lofty 
brevity. 

Elsie  reflected  quickly.  There  was  not  the  slight- 
est use  trying  to  rectify  any  of  last  month's  irregu- 
larities. Next  month  should  tell  the  tale. 

"  Well,"  she  said  then,  "  I  shall  call  up  each  one 
of  these  firms  and  tell  them  that  hereafter  nothing 
will  be  taken  in  that  has  not  an  accompanying  slip. 


i  io      IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

And  I  want  you  to  keep  each  one.  Have  you  a  hook 
for  them  ?  " 

Slight  surprise  mingled  with  disdain  as  Annie  in- 
clined her  head  slightly  toward  the  wall  forming  the 
side  of  a  cupboard  upon  which  a  bill  clamp  was  fas- 
tened. Elsie  nodded  slightly. 

"  Well,  please  keep  each  and  every  slip  in  it.  I 
shall  look  them  over  at  the  end  of  the  month.  And 
Annie,"  she  added,  a  brilliant  idea  striking  her  as 
she  turned  to  go,  "  come  to  me  each  morning  and  tell 
me  what  you  want  to  order  for  the  day." 

With  that  she  went,  leaving  Annie  to  her  feelings, 
which  were  mostly  indescribable.  At  first  that  irate 
and  astounded  person  was  for  taking  her  hands  out 
of  the  dish-pan,  packing  her  things,  and  departing 
instanter.  But  a  moment's  thought  counseled  pru- 
dence. There  was  much  to  be  said  for  the  place. 
She  was  uninterfered  with  in  her  work  and  allowed 
to  go  and  come  pretty  much  as  she  pleased.  The 
work,  too,  was  light;  for  the  charwoman  came  one 
day  a  week  and  cleaned  from  cellar  to  basement; 
all  washing  went  out,  and  the  gardener  kept  the 
verandas,  steps,  and  windows  cleaned.  And  as  for 
this  wave  of  righteousness  —  it  would  pass  off. 
Such  waves  always  had.  It  was  but  an  extended  re- 
sult of  the  accident,  of  whose  significance  Annie  was 
fully  aware.  Indeed,  she  had  talked  it  over  very 
fully  with  the  nurse  at  the  time.  And  then  again  she 
had  often  seen  her  mistress  in  tantrums.  Not  quite 


so  businesslike  and  disconcerting  as  this  one,  of 
course.  But  it  would  pass.  A  month  might  be  lost 
before  things  returned  to  normal;  and  during  that 
time  some  awkward  discrepancies  might  become  ap- 
parent. It  was  unfortunate;  but  Annie  decided  that 
with  the  exercise  of  due  care  and  diplomacy  much 
of  the  effects,  and  also  the  results,  of  her  mistress's 
newly  acquired  sense  of  duty  could  be  headed  off. 
To  be  sure,  as  a  disciplinary  measure,  Annie  evi- 
denced her  displeasure  at  the  turn  in  events  by  being 
sulky  and  somewhat  noisy.  But  she  met  so  straight 
and  uncompromising  a  glance  from  her  mistress 
that  she  decided  to  postpone  all  measures  until  that 
lady's  fit  of  temper  should  have  worn  off. 

After  leaving  the  kitchen  Elsie  pondered  the 
troublesome  account  question  still  further.  Then 
she  went  to  the  telephone  and  called  up  Addie  Mc- 
Keene.  Very  close  intimacy  had  evidently  existed 
between  her  and  that  other  Elsie  and  this  could  not 
be  allowed  suddenly  to  lapse.  Indeed,  Elsie  did  not 
know  that  she  altogether  wished  it  to.  She  liked 
Addie.  And  here  was  a  very  safe  subject  to  con- 
verse upon. 

"  I  want  some  housekeeping  advice,"  she  told  that 
little  lady,  as  she  heard  her  voice  respond  to  the 
call. 

''  You  want  —  what  ?  "  demanded  Addie  almost 
sharply. 

"  Housekeeping  advice." 


H2     IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

"  Oh !  certainly."  Addie  gave  a  soft  little  chuckle 
of  pure  amusement.  "  Come  right  over.  I  did  at- 
tend a  Domestic  Science  class  once  in  the  dear  dead 
days.  Probably  a  few  shreds  of  knowledge  still 
cling." 

"  I  '11  come  over  immediately  after  luncheon," 
said  Elsie. 

"  You  '11  come  over  immediately  now,"  responded 
Addie  promptly.  "  Jim  's  got  the  electric  outside, 
washing  it,  and  I  '11  tell  him  to  run  round  and  get 
you." 

Five  or  ten  minutes  later  the  electric  was  at  the 
door,  driven  by  a  youth  of  about  twenty.  He  gave 
Elsie  a  pleasant,  deferential  greeting,  as  Lottie  the 
maid  had  done  on  that  previous  occasion. 

Elsie  tried  to  observe  closely  the  direction  in 
which  they  went  as  they  glided  along.  She  did  note 
the  general  direction  pretty  well,  and  though  unable 
to  keep  count  of  the  actual  turns,  felt  that  she  could 
find  the  house  alone  easily  enough. 

She  found  Addie,  dainty  and  sweet  and  prettily 
coiffured,  but  in  negligee  attire.  Her  breakfast  was 
still  beside  her. 

"  Dear!  Such  laziness!  "  commented  Elsie,  smil- 
ingly. 

"  Well,  I  was  out  so  late,"  explained  Addie  calmly. 
"  I  was  going  to  ring  you  up  in  a  little  while  and  tell 
you  all  you  missed." 

Elsie  handed  her  wrap  to  the  smiling  Lottie  and 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER      113 

seated  herself  in  a  big  comfortable  chair.  "  Well, 
I  'm  listening.  Proceed." 

"  Presently,"  oracularly.  "  But  first  we  must  to 
business.  Have  a  cup  of  coffee,  kidlets." 

"  I  had  my  breakfast  long  ago,  thank  you,"  with 
mock  primness. 

"  Precisely  —  so  long  ago  that  I  thought  you  could 
accommodate  another,"  retorted  Addie.  And  then, 
as  Elsie  shook  her  head  and  Lottie  retired :  "  You 
need  expert  advice,  I  believe.  Kindly  state  your 
case,  madame." 

Elsie  explained,  going  into  full  details  as  to 
amount  and  kind.  "  Alan  says  he  hopes  Annie  has 
some  limit  set,"  she  concluded.  "  But  I  don't  believe 
she  has.  You  know,  somehow  or  other  I  have  taken 
a  dislike  to  her." 

"  Humph !  "  Addie  gave  a  queer  little  grunt. 
"  You  've  been  long  enough  about  it.  I  always  did 
detest  her,  as  you  know.  I  don't  believe  she  has  a 
speck  of  conscience." 

"  I  don't  either,"  agreed  Elsie  whole-heartedly. 
Then,  with  a  frown,  "  But,  you  see,  I  don't  know 
what  expenses  should  be,  exactly.  What  are  your 
monthly  expenses,  Addie  ?  " 

"  Oh,  goodness,  childie !  they  vary  so !  Depends 
upon  how  much  entertaining  I  do,  and  all  that.  And 
then  our  housekeeping  is  so  mixed  —  cash  and  ac- 
count You  see,  the  butter  and  eggs  come  in  from 
the  country.  And  we  have  no  meat  or  vegetable  ac- 


ii4     IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

count.  Those  things  Lottie  goes  and  picks  herself 
from  wherever  they  suit  her  best  and  has  them  sent 
out." 

Elsie  nodded  with  a  sigh.     "  Lottie  is  a  peach." 

"  Indeed  she  is,"  almost  affectionately.  "  You 
know,  Elsie,  I  always  did  tell  you  you  left  things  too 
much  to  Annie.  I  knew  it  would  have  to  end  some 
day." 

"  It  will,"  said  Elsie,  portentously.  "  '  Now  shalt 
thou  see  what  I  will  do  to  Pharaoh.' ' 

'  Yes.  But  unfortunately  we  shall  also  see  what 
Pharaoh  will  do  to  thee,"  rejoined  Addie,  quietly. 
"  And  it  will  be  plenty." 

She  was  curled  comfortably  in  her  chair,  her  head 
propped  between  her  hand  and  the  upholstery.  And 
she  watched  her  friend  with  eyes  that,  for  all  her 
laziness,  sought  and  puzzled  and  conjectured,  though 
she  did  not  actually  know  she  was  puzzling,  nor  what 
it  was  she  was  vainly  striving  to  catch  and  detect. 
Elsie's  body  and  face  were  here ;  but  that  which  she 
had  learned  to  know  as  Elsie,  which  she  would  prob- 
ably call  her  character  —  the  one  who  stood  behind 
that  face  and  that  body  —  was  absent.  It  was  all 
unprecedented;  and  so  Addie  could  not  consciously 
accept  or  consider  such  a  state  of  affairs. 

"  Well,"  she  went  on  then,  "  what  are  you  going 
to  do  about  it?  How  are  you  going  to  begin?  " 

Elsie  woke  up  from  a  short  reverie  and  detailed 
the  action  already  taken  in  the  matter. 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER      115 

"  Dear  me !  "  Addie  chuckled.  "  Quite  a  begin- 
ning! As  a  gentle  and  diplomatic  hint  that  some- 
thing is  wrong  it  is  simply  a  work  of  art.  I  can  only 
imagine  one  thing  a  shade  more  diplomatic,  and  that 
would  be  throwing  a  brick  through  the  window." 

Elsie  laughed  too.  "  I  suppose  I  might  have  been 
a  little  more  gradual.  But  I  don't  know.  She 
might  just  as  well  understand  at  once  that  I  'm  tired 
of  such  abuse  of  trust  and  that  it  has  got  to  stop. 
If  only,"  she  went  on  frowningly,  "  I  knew  just 
how  things  ought  to  be,  myself.  But  I  suppose  I 
can  learn." 

"  I  suppose  you  can,"  agreed  Addie,  though  a  trifle 
dubious  apparently.  "  I  wish  I  could  help  you, 
kidlets.  Of  course  I  can  always  get  any  informa- 
tion you  want,  from  Lottie.  But  in  matters  like 
these  I  know  less  than  you  do,  if  anything.  Lottie 
manages  everything.  If  she  should  marry  or* — or 
anything,  I  positively  don't  know  what  I  should  do," 
tragically.  "  However,  '  Sufficient  unto  the  day.' 
I  suppose  I  should  learn  in  a  hurry  —  Should  have 
to.  I  'm  afraid,"  she  went  on  reflectively,  "  Annie  's 
going  to  lead  you  a  terrible  life  while  she  is  being 
reformed." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know."  Elsie's  eyes  narrowed 
ominously.  "  She  is  a  good  cook  and  a  good  worker 
but  —  There  are  others." 

"  Yes.  But  from  all  I  hear  they  are  peculiarly 
hard  to  find.  Better  go  gently,"  counseled  Addie, 


ii6     IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

"  "The  very  fact  that  she  knows  you  are  watching  the 
bills  will  help,  I  fancy.  She  won't  feel  she  can  be 
quite  as  wholesale.  See  how  that  works  before  you 
do  anything  rash.  Meantime  keep  your  eyes  open." 

Elsie  digested  this  sage  advice  and  decided  that  it 
was  good.  "  I  will,"  she  nodded.  "  Act  on  that 
advice,  I  mean.  And  now,"  she  added  in  a  tone  that 
clearly  dismissed  that  matter  for  the  time  being,  "  tell 
me  all  about  the  time  you  had." 

She  listened  while  Addie  leaned  her  cheek  on  her 
hand  and  told  of  the  matinee,  of  a  drive  out  to  the 
automobile  club-house,  of  the  dinner  on  the  veranda 
overlooking  the  river,  of  the  informal  dance  after- 
ward. She  listened,  also,  to  laughing  and  perfectly 
good-natured  scraps  of  gossip  about  this  and  that 
person  who  was  to  her  but  a  name,  and  interjected 
nods  and  laughs  with  care  and  precision.  But  it 
seemed  to  her  such  a  farce,  so  unreal,  that  over  and 
over  again  she  found  herself  wondering  that  Addie 
did  not  sense  an  impostor  and  bid  her  begone.  Her 
new  home,  her  threatened  tilt  with  Annie,  Alan  and 
the  rankle  of  his  opinion  of  her,  these  things  were 
beginning  to  seem  real.  They  were  issues  in  which 
she  was  already  vitally  interested.  But  Addie  Mc- 
Keene  and  the  life  she  glimpsed  were  like  side  scenes 
viewed  from  a  distance.  Personally  she  liked  Addie 
very  much,  would  have  liked  to  be  able  to  enter  into 
the  merry,  care- free  life  she  seemed  to  lead.  But 
that  same  life,  the  means  she  evidently  had  at  her 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER      117 

command,  her  way  of  looking  at  things,  made  it  im- 
possible that  Addie  could  ever  enter  very  extensively 
into  the  life  that  Elsie  hoped  to  shape  for  herself,  or 
perhaps  to  work  at  while  it  was  shaped  for  her.  For 
she  felt  what  it  was  going  to  be  —  a  constant  over- 
coming, a  ceaseless  round  of  difficulties  to  be  faced, 
a  long,  lonely  fight,  perhaps  to  victory  and  perhaps 
not.  Still,  in  the  meantime,  she  really  liked  this 
bright,  sweet-natured  woman  enough  to  be  anxious 
not  to  slight  her  or  hurt  her  feelings. 

"  Cora  Starrett  is  giving  an  affair  at  the  golf  links 
this  afternoon,"  Addie  chattered  along.  "  She  ex- 
pects me  to  be  there.  But  I  'm  not  going.  Say, 
Mrs.  Leroy  Yorke  was  telling  me  about  the  new 
couple  at  the  Athenian.  Says  they  're  much  better 
than  Robert  Dean  and  his  partner.  Says  the  man  is 
a  dream  of  grace.  And  I  suppose,"  she  laughed, 
"  all  the  men  say  she  is.  Let 's  drop  in  this  after- 
noon. I  '11  have  Jim  rush  you  home  directly  after 
lunch  so  that  you  can  dress.  And  get  out  your  run- 
about. We  might  want  to  take  others  and  run  out 
to  the  club." 

For  a  second  Elsie  was  taken  aback.  But  her 
intuition  was  quick  and  facile.  She  had  noticed 
that  their  garage  was  double,  though  she  had  never 
investigated  it.  Doubtless  it  contained  a  machine 
that  was  supposed  to  be  devoted  to  her  own  special 
use.  She  felt  cheap  and  disconcerted;  but  there 
was  only  one  thing  to  do  —  refuse.  She  shook  her 


n8     IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

head  at  the  surprised  Addie,  and  for  once  felt  per- 
fectly safe  in  telling  the  simple  truth. 

"  Addie,  I  can't  drive  that  machine  yet." 

Addie  opened  her  eyes  and  stared  comically  at  her 
friend.  "  Why  —  why  —  Has  that  accident  turned 
you  against  machines,  then?" 

'  Yes,  for  a  time."  Then  she  went  on  lamely. 
"  Oh,  Addie,  I  suppose  you  '11  be  awfully  disgusted 
with  me !  But  —  I  don't  want  to  go  to  the  dansant, 
either.  I  —  Oh,  I  don't  feel  equal  to  it,  yet." 

Addie  leaned  her  cheek  back  on  her  arm  reflec- 
tively. "  I  believe,  after  all,  that  I  am  down  on  your 
black-list." 

"  Oh,  Addie,  don't  talk  like  that !  "  Elsie  leaned 
forward  impulsively  and  stroked  the  hand  that  lay 
on  her  friend's  lap.  Somehow  she  felt  sure  that, 
as  far  as  her  conception  of  the  word  went,  this 
woman  had  been  a  good  little  friend  for  years.  "  I 
—  I  don't  know."  She  passed  her  hand  distressedly 
across  her  face.  "  I  'm  so  awfully  restless." 

"  I  see  it,"  Addie  nodded  believingly,  "  All  the 
while  I  have  been  talking  I  could  see  it.  You  lis- 
tened « —  tried  to  —  but  your  eyes  were  full  of  some- 
thing else.  What  do  you  mean  by  '  restless  '  ?  "  she 
queried,  suddenly  bethinking  herself. 

"  Just  that,"  quietly.  "  When  I  'm  away  from 
home  I  long  to  be  back  there ;  and  when  I  'm  there 
I  want  to  pace  up  and  down  like  a  caged  tiger." 

Addie  considered  her  companion  long  and  ear- 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER      119 

nestly.  "  Well,  it 's  either  something  Alan  has  done 
or  else  you  're  not  well  yet,"  she  decided. 

"  Oh !  "  Elsie  laughed  and  stood  up,  stretching 
her  slim,  lithe  body  with  power  and  ease.  "  I  'm 
well  enough.  Could  n't  very  well  be  any  better." 

"  Your  body  is  well,"  said  Addie,  tersely. 

Elsie  would  not  stay  to  luncheon  and  in  view  of 
what  she  had  said  Addie  would  not  press  her. 
Neither  would  she  be  driven  home,  but  insisted  on 
walking. 

On  reaching  home,  before  entering  the  house  Elsie 
went  into  the  garage  to  look  over  her  newly  dis- 
covered possession.  It  was  a  smart-looking  dark 
blue  six-cylinder  roadster,  with  fawn  upholstery 
and  white  wire  wheels.  Elsie  stood  a  minute  star- 
ing at  the  handsome  thing.  Whatever  would  she 
do  with  it  ?  Then  true  to  her  resolution  she  walked 
suddenly  out  of  the  garage.  She  had  not  to  do  any- 
thing with  it  to-day.  And  time  would  show. 

One  other  investigation  Elsie  still  had  to  make 
regarding  her  home  and  she  decided  that  the  after- 
noon before  her  presented  as  good  a  chance  as  any. 
She  wanted  to  sort  and  read  carefully  through  the 
papers  in  the  desk  in  her  bedroom.  They  might  con- 
tain much  valuable  information. 

Nothing  happened  to  change  this  decision.  And 
so  immediately  after  lunch  she  sat  down  before  the 
dainty  and  much  overladen  desk.  She  sorted  and 
read  carefully  through  the  contents.  Most  of  the 


120      IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

letters  and  papers  contained  conveyed  no  especial 
meaning  to  her,  but  she  found  two  letters  from  an 
address  in  Paris  signed  "  Your  Mother."  She  con- 
sidered them  gravely  for  a  few  minutes  and  then 
put  them  aside  with  a  sigh  and  a  certain  feeling  of 
relief  that  France  was  as  far  off  as  it  was. 

Among  other  things  Elsie  found  in  one  of  the 
desk  drawers  a  bank-book  with  a  balance  of  seven 
dollars.  The  entry  and  withdrawal  dates  were  quite 
recent  and  the  book  was  nearly  filled.  It  gave  Elsie 
both  a  sudden  idea  and  a  slight  shock.  She  went 
downstairs  and  got  a  book  in  which  she  had  seen 
Elsie  Leland's  name  inscribed.  She  studied  the  in- 
scription —  Eloise  Van  Duyn  Leland  —  and  then 
got  a  sheet  of  paper  to  see  if  it  had  been  written  by 
the  owner  herself  and  how  near  she  could  come  to 
it. 

The  result  was  mainly  satisfactory.  She  had  no 
other  idea  of  that  name  in  writing  but  that  one 
which  was  before  her.  Her  hand  was  evidently 
trained  to  write  it  that  way  and  did  so.  The  signa- 
ture looked  a  little  stiff,  but  that  was  doubtless  due 
to  the  fact  that  she  wrote  slowly  and  consciously. 
However,  she  decided  to  allow  that  seven  dollars 
to  remain  in  the  bank  indefinitely.  She  would  open 
an  entirely  new  account  as  soon  as  she  had  anything 
much  to  bank. 

Elsie  had  at  least  one  pleasant  hour  that  after- 
noon. That  was  the  hour,  or  more,  that  she  spent 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER      121 

dressing — for  dinner,  as  she  termed  it  to  herself. 
With  the  deepest  interest  and  care  she  dressed  her 
hair,  studying  the  lines  of  her  coiffure  from  every 
angle.  And  then  she  put  on  a  simply-made  gown  of 
chiffon  velvet  of  a  rare  golden-brown  shade.  With 
her  hair  and  eyes,  it  made  a  wonderful  study  in 
color,  which  Elsie  was  artist  enough  to  note.  Then 
she  went  down  and  watched  for  Alan  to  come ;  and 
when  he  did  come,  woman-like,  she  was  deep  in  the 
pages  of  "  Vogue." 

When  he  came  down  into  the  living-room  a  few 
minutes  before  the  gong  sounded,  Elsie  took  out  of 
the  library  table  drawer,  where  she  had  placed  it 
that  morning,  the -check  for  the  fifty  dollars  made 
out  to  herself.  She  held  it  out.  "  Is  this  —  ?  " 

Leland  glanced  at  it  and  then  at  her.  "  It 's  your 
check,  of  course.  What  about  it?  " 

"  Nothing."  She  replaced  it  in  the  drawer.  "  I 
just  thought — "  She  did  not  exactly  know  what 
to  say. 

But  Leland  continued  to  look  her  straight  in  the 
face.  "  Did  n't  you  think  I  was  going  to  give  it  to 
you  this  month,  then?  " 

"  Oh,  I  have  n't  done  any  thinking  about  it,"  re- 
plied Elsie  shortly. 

"  Diplomatic  relations  are  not  severed  yet,"  said 
Leland  with  a  smile  of  faint  amusement.  "  Until 
they  are,  financial  arrangements  will  remain  un- 
changed." 


CHAPTER  XII 

WHEN  Elsie  had  told  Addie  McKeene  that 
she  was  restless,  she  had  spoken  the  truth 
mildly.  And  instead  of  decreasing,  this  restlessness 
grew  upon  her  day  by  day.  Not  only  did  the  uncer- 
tainty and  the  faintly  defined  sense  of  dread  under 
which  she  lived  tend  to  make  and  keep  her  restless, 
but  it  seemed  as  if  her  body  demanded  something  — 
ached  and  longed  for  something.  And  so  tremen- 
dously full  of  vital  power  was  it  that  it  seemed  to 
Elsie  sometimes  as  if  the  life  that  surged  and  flamed 
and  expanded  within  her  must  surely  show  through 
her  skin  as  a  rosy  light.  Sometimes  it  was  actually 
true,  as  she  had  said,  that  she  wanted  to  pace  the 
floor  like  a  caged  animal. 

She  did  her  utmost  so  to  fill  her  life  that  the  eager, 
aching  body  could  not  drive  her  back  and  forth. 
She  went  to  the  best  teacher  of  piano  and  also  to 
the  best  vocal  teacher  that  she  could  hear  of;  and 
on  the  work  that  both  gave  her  to  do  she  drilled 
with  obstinate,  dogged  energy.  At  first,  at  least 
once  a  minute,  she  would  have  to  bring  back  to  the 
page  she  was  studying,  or  the  tone  she  was  making, 
the  impatient,  restless  mind;  often  it  seemed  that  she 

122 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER      123 

was  holding  herself  on  the  piano  stool  by  sheer  force, 
as  if  her  limbs  would  rise  and  walk  off  with  her. 
It  made  no  difference  whether  the  reward  was  worth 
the  awful  minute-by-minute  struggle.  It  had  to  be 
done. 

She  studied  and  watched,  too,  to  familiarize  her- 
self with  the  details  of  her  home  life  and  the  suc- 
cessful running  of  the  house.  She  learned  the  day 
the  charwoman  came,  and  made  it  her  business  to 
be  at  home  that  day,  although  here  she  surmised  that 
for  her  own  sake  Annie  would  see  that  the  required 
amount  of  work  was  done.  She  perceived  that  the 
gardener  came  two  days  a  week,  that  in  addition  to 
his  gardening  he  hosed  the  verandas  off  and  swept 
and  hosed  out  the  garage.  She  learned  that  the 
Chinaman  came  at  nine  o'clock  every  Monday  morn- 
ing, that  Annie  collected  the  house  linen  and  Alan's, 
that  she  had  merely  to  contribute  her  own.  She  at- 
tended to  the  cut  flowers  on  the  dining-table  and 
elsewhere,  and  judged  by  Annie's  half-amused 
glances  that  this  performance  was  receiving  more 
than  the  usual  attention  at  her  hands. 

But  while  she  was  forcing  this  new  diet,  mental 
and  otherwise,  on  herself,  allowing  no  compromise, 
no  relief  along  the  hard  road,  she  was  a  starved  en- 
tity. And  seeing  that  the  statement  that  man  can- 
not live  by  bread  alone  is  an  actual  as  well  as  ab- 
stract fact,  she  suffered  much  as  a  starving  person 
does. 


124      IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

"  Yes.  Have  to  do  it  to  keep  from  wanting 
things,"  she  explained  to  Addie  one  day,  when  that 
lady  came  in  upon  her  as  she  was  playing  almost 
furiously  velocity  exercises,  and  stared  unbeliev- 
ingly from  the  heavily  printed  page  to  Elsie  her- 
self. "  I  keep  on  wanting,  wanting.  I  'm  just  one 
big  bundle  of  wants."  She  wheeled  round  on  the 
piano  stool  and  clasped  her  hands,  smiling  whim- 
sically. "  What  do  you  suppose  is  the  matter  with 
me?" 

"  I  '11  tell  you  what  is  the  matter  with  you,"  re- 
sponded Addie  promptly,  almost  impatiently. 
"  You  've  got  some  foolish  idea  of  reforming,  turn- 
ing over  a  new  leaf,  or  whatever  it  is  you  call  it, 
and  you  've  simply  cut  out  of  your  life  at  one  sweep 
everything  you  've  ever  been  accustomed  to.  And 
you  can't  do  it.  It 's  not  humanly  possible  to  upset 
suddenly  the  habits  it  has  taken  a  lifetime  to  form. 
But  you  '11  go  on,  I  suppose,  until  you  break  down, 
have  nervous  prostration  or  something  like  that. 
Then,  when  illness  breaks  down  that  horribly  ob- 
stinate spirit  of  yours,  you  '11  come  to  your  senses." 

Elsie  laughed,  uhoffended.  "  No,  I  sha'n't  — 
have  nervous  prostration,  I  mean." 

"  Well,  you  '11  see,"  with  ominous  conviction. 
"  And  that  reminds  me  of  what  I  came  more  par- 
ticularly for.  You  don't  feel  impelled  to  waste 
that  perfectly  good  box  at  the  opera,  do  you?  Last 
of  the  season,  you  know." 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER     125 

"Yes.  Why,  no  —  I  sha'n't  waste  it,"  ventured 
Elsie.  "  You  're  going,  are  n't  you?  " 

"  Well,  I  should  think  so !  One  does  n't  waste 
Mary  Garden  seats.  He  gave  it  to  both  of  us,  you 
know,"  with  a  puzzled  glance  at  the  other. 

"  I  know,"  quickly.  Then,  to  cover  some  evi- 
dent mistake :  "  I  was  only  thinking  — " 

"  Just  tell  Alan  you  're  going  with  me,"  arranged 
Addie  promptly.  "  And  I  '11  call  for  you." 

"  All  right.  That  will  be  lovely,"  with  a  nod  that 
was  as  much  relief  as  acquiescence. 

Addie  stayed  to  luncheon,  which  an  exceedingly 
sulky  Annie  prepared.  The  girl  was  the  uncon- 
scious source  of  much  amusement  to  Addie,  who  in- 
sisted on  hearing  full  details  of  the  domestic  cam- 
paign, suspecting  that  the  luckless  Annie  shared 
with  the  music  pages  the  task  of  diverting  some  of 
her  mistress's  over-abundant  energy.  This,  in  a 
way,  was  true.  Elsie  was  determined  to  have  some- 
thing like  justice  done  to  her  accounts;  but  she  pur- 
sued the  matter  with  an  unceasing  vigilance  that  to 
Annie  must  have  seemed  nothing  short  of  vindictive. 
Its  thoroughness  left  nothing  to  be  desired,  though 
of  this  Annie  was  not  so  well  able  to  judge.  For 
what  was  really  the  result  of  a  simple  method  had 
the  outward  appearance  of  pure  observation  and  an 
uncomfortably  exact  memory.  As  a  matter  of  fact, 
not  caring  to  go  into  the  kitchen  and  constantly  re- 
fer to  the  slips,  Elsie  kept  a  private  list  of  each 


126      IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

day's  orderings.  One  glance  at  this  was  sufficient 
to  show  the  number  of  days  that  had  elapsed  be- 
tween the  duplicating  of  the  order  for  each  article. 

After  Addie's  departure  Elsie  went  upstairs  to 
lay  out  and  arrange  her  dress  for  the  night.  She 
had  already  discovered,  examined  and  admired  a 
lovely  and  evidently  costly  gown  of  georgette  and 
lace  in  a  pale,  exquisite  shade  of  pink.  And  with 
this  she  put  out  a  theater  coat  of  cream  broadcloth, 
whose  folds  held  a  satin-like  richness.  In  the  heavy 
French  gilt  jewel-case,  in  a  handsome  case  of  its 
own,  was  an  exceptionally  beautiful  garnet  necklace. 
Elsie  had  never  seen  so  many  garnets  together;  and 
she  laid  the  necklace  against  her  neck  again  and 
again,  admiring  the  star-like  clusters  of  stones,  well- 
ing their  soft,  rich  light.  She  decided  to  wear  that 
also.  It  was  not  very  often  she  could  wear  any- 
thing quite  so  handsome. 

She  speculated  somewhat  as  to  the  donor  of  the 
opera  box,  though  from  the  way  Addie  had  spoken 
she  suspected  it  was  the  unknown  Willett  Renshaw. 
She  wondered  with  faint  discomfort  whether  or  not 
Alan  had  any  reason  to  divine  the  true  state  of  af- 
fairs. However,  that  must  be  trusted  to  luck.  The 
box  had  been  arranged  for  before  she  came  on  the 
scene ;  and  now,  without  offending  Addie,  and  look- 
ing ridiculous,  she  could  not  very  well  avoid  making 
use  of  it. 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER     127 

Though  Elsie  was  more  or  less  on  the  qui  vive  dur- 
ing every  minute  of  Alan's  presence  in  the  house, 
and  although  every  conversation  that  took  place  — 
desultory  as  they  were  —  constituted  a  battle  of  wits 
for  her,  still  she  watched  for  his  arrival  each  night 
and  was  keenly  disappointed  when,  as  happened  now 
and  again,  work  up  the  line  detained  him  and  he  did 
not  come  home  for  dinner.  And  not  for  a  moment, 
until  to-day,  had  she  considered  anything  that  would 
take  her  out  for  the  evening.  Indeed,  Addie,  from 
sheer  impatience,  had  ceased  to  propose  anything; 
and  only  the  fact  that  she  was  an  exceedingly  good- 
natured  little  body,  and  that  she  sensed  that  some- 
thing entirely  out  of  the  ordinary  was  happening  to 
her  friend,  kept  Mrs.  McKeene  from  a  state  of 
actual  offense  and  estrangement 

At  dinner  that  evening  Elsie  allowed  several  con- 
venient gaps  in  the  conversation  to  go  by  without 
announcing  her  plans  for  the  opera.  Though  as 
he  talked  to  her,  Alan  necessarily  glanced  at  her 
from  time  to  time,  still  those  glances  dwelt  no 
length  of  time  upon  her  face,  and  were  not  discon- 
certing; she  dreaded  somewhat  the  occasions  when 
he  really  looked  at  her  with  intent  to  observe.  Alan 
Leland  was  deliberate  both  as  to  speech  and  glance; 
in  fact,  his  glance  was  slow  almost  to  laziness.  But 
if  the  glance  was  slow,  the  mind  behind  it  was  not. 
It  seemed  to  Elsie  that  never  had  she  met  eyes  that 


128      IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

knew  and  discerned  so  much.  He  was  a  man  of 
very  few  questions  and  Elsie  had  an  uneasy  feeling 
that  he  rarely  needed  to  ask  any. 

However,  before  dinner  was  over  she  managed  to 
say  in  a  commendably  casual  way,  "  I  'm  going  to 
the  opera  with  Addie  to-night.  It 's  Mary  Garden, 
you  know." 

"  Yes  ?  "  He  looked  at  her  and  there  was  no 
reading  the  cool,  indifferent  eyes.  "  Have  you  the 
tickets,  then?" 

"  She  has." 

He  made  no  further  comment.  Somehow  Elsie 
wished  he  would.  She  wondered  whether  he  cared 
for  music  and  whether  he  had  ever  been  in  the  habit 
of  attending  with  her  events  like  this  one.  There 
was  no  way  —  no  safe  way  —  of  finding  these 
things  out,  and  so  she  let  the  thought  go  and  went 
up  to  her  room  and  forgot  her  uneasiness  in  the  de- 
light of  donning  beautiful  clothes. 

So  interested  did  she  become  and  so  quickly  did 
time  fly  in  the  elaborations  of  her  toilet,  that  when 
the  pretty  chime  of  Addie's  electric  sounded  she 
was  still  up  in  her  room.  Catching  up  her  coat  and 
slipping  her  arms  into  it  as  she  went,  she  hurried 
down  the  staircase,  reaching  the  foot  of  it  just  as 
Annie  admitted  the  radiantly  pretty  Mrs.  McKeene. 
To  Elsie's  surprise  Addie  stepped  quickly  up  to  her 
and  drew  the  coat  together  at  the  neck. 

"  Does  n't  that  hook  up  closer  ?     These  evenings 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER'     129 

are  still  quite  chilly."  She  was  frowning  fiercely. 
Then  she  turned  to  Alan  who,  upon  her  arrival,  had 
risen  and  laid  aside  his  book.  "  Well,  Alan,  I  see 
Mary  Garden  has  no  charms  for  you." 

"  Yes  and  no."  From  his  superior  height  Alan 
looked  down  pleasantly  enough  upon  the  pretty 
woman  before  him.  He  smiled  amusedly  too  be- 
cause, of  course,  her  remark  was  entirely  superficial, 
and  both  knew  it. 

"  Meaning  —  ?  " 

"  That  in  some  things  she  is  a  very  interesting 
study." 

"  Oh."  Addie  met  the  lazily  discerning  eyes  with 
but  a  fleeting  glance.  "If  we  were  n't  rather  late 
as  it  is  I  should  want  to  thrash  that  out.  I  believe 
in  that  way  I  could  acquire  a  most  thoughtful  and 
learned  criticism  of  the  famous  Mary  with  which 
to  confound  my  more  intellectual  friends.  But  I 
postpone  it  merely.  Please  have  it  ready  on  de- 
mand." She  gave  him  a  swift,  laughing  glance  and 
with  a  little  farewell  nod,  joined  Elsie  at  the  door. 

In  the  electric  she  turned  suddenly  upon  the  sur- 
prised Elsie.  "Well,  had  you  forgotten  it?"  she 
demanded,  indicating  with  a  wave  of  the  hand  any- 
where in  the  region  of  Elsie's  neck.  "  Do  you  sup- 
pose you  can  fool  a  man  like  Alan  into  believing  that 
you  are  paying  for  a  necklace  like  that  out  of  fifty 
a  month  ?  " 

Swift,  pained  understanding  followed  instantly  on 


130     IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

surprise  in  Elsie's  mind.  "  Yes.  I  —  I  had  forgot- 
ten," she  said  apologetically. 

"  Well,  if  you  're  getting  so  forgetful  as  all  that, 
you  'd  better  put  the  things  that  —  that  have  been 
given  you  —  one  side." 

"  Yes.  I  wonder,"  speculated  Elsie  artfully,  after 
a  moment's  pause,  "  whether  they  would  n't  all  go 
into  the  case  with  this.  Then  I  'd  lock  it  up  sep- 
arately." 

"  Don't  see  why  not."  Addie  was  watching  her 
swift  way  down  the  well  lighted  street.  "  There 
is  n't  anything  but  the  pearl  marquise  and  the  sun- 
burst besides,  is  there?" 

"That's  all,"  relieved.  "Well,  they're  going 
into  seclusion,"  grimly. 

"  Oh,  no  need  to  go  to  extremes,"  said  Addie  in  a 
businesslike  way.  "  Just  be  careful.  That 's  all." 

In  the  theater  box,  waiting  for  the  curtain  to  go 
up,  Elsie  turned  to  her  companion  with  a  half-tri- 
umphant smile.  "  And  so  you  don't  think  Alan  is 
so  easily  fooled,  after  all?" 

"  Why,  I  never  did  think  he  was,"  replied  Addie, 
in  some  surprise.  "  What  I  Ve  always  said  was 
that  he  ought  to  be  sensible  in  what  he  expects  of 
you,  knowing  what  kind  of  life  you  led  before  he 
took  you." 

Elsie  wondered  what  that  life  could  have  been, 
but  necessarily  refrained  from  any  comment. 

"  He  's  a  man  one  could  like  awfully  well,"  went 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER      131 

on  Addie  thoughtfully,  "if  he  were  not  such  a 
crank." 

"  He  's  quite  nice  with  you,"  said  Elsie  with  a 
smile. 

"  Oh,  yes."  There  was  almost  a  trace  of  resent- 
ment in  Addie's  tones.  "  But  I  know  very  well 
that  I  've  been  added  up  and  have  gone  down  on 
his  list  of  values  as  a  big  zero." 

"  Well,  you  're  not  alone,"  with  a  slight  and  per- 
fectly involuntary  smile. 

Addie  glanced  at  her.  "  Are  you  ambitious  to 
rise  in  the  scale  of  valuation?  " 

"  It  would  n't  do  me  any  good  to  be  ambitious," 
replied  Elsie  a  trifle  ambiguously. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

SO  completely  engrossed  had  Elsie  been  by  the 
problems  already  on  hand  at  home  she  had  al- 
most forgotten  for  the  time  being  Willett  Renshaw 
and  the  problem  that  he  was  sure  eventually  to  pre- 
sent. And  so  she  gave  a  decided  start  when,  on 
answering  the  telephone  bell  shortly  after  luncheon 
one  afternoon,  she  heard  the  voice  that  already  she 
knew  by  reason  of  its  unusual  beauty  and  resonance. 

"Is  that  you,  Elsie?" 

"Yes." 

There  was  the  short,  reflective  pause  that  by  this 
time  she  was  becoming  accustomed  to.  And  then, 
"Well,  dear?" 

"  Well,"  she  replied,  with  a  slight,  nervous  laugh. 
"  When  did  you  get  back  ?  " 

"  Last  night.  It  seems  so  good  to  hear  your  voice 
again,"  went  on  the  voice  with  its  caress  and  ro- 
mance. "  I  Ve  had  an  awfully  pleasant  time,  but 
every  now  and  again  I  'd  hunger  for  you.  Did 
you  for  me?" 

"  Just  simply  starved,"  responded  Elsie  with  a 
curl  of  the  lips  that  under  the  circumstances  was 
harmless. 

132 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER      133 

Again  that  short  listening  —  of  the  understand- 
ing, as  it  were.  Then,  "  What  time  will  you  be  over 
this  afternoon?  " 

"  I  was  n't  planning  to  come  over  this  after- 
noon." 

"  Oh.     But  you  will  plan  now,  won't  you  ?  " 

"  N-no  —  I  don't  think  so."  She  tried  to  make 
the  words  sound  as  pleasant  as  possible. 

"Oh!"  The  vibrant  voice  showed  no  signs  of 
temper.  "  I  saw  Addie  last  night.  She  was  dining 
at  Cliquot's  with  the  Pennocks.  I  commissioned  her 
to  bring  you  over  this  afternoon  and  she  promptly 
returned  the  commission.  I  knew  from  the  way 
she  spoke  that  something  was  still  wrong.  What 
is  it?" 

"  Why  —  nothing.     What  should  there  be?  " 

"  Are  you  vexed  that  I  stayed  down  south  so 
long?" 

"  Why,  of  course  not.     How  silly !  " 

"  I  would  have  returned  sooner  if  I  had  thought 
that  you  wanted  me,"  went  on  the  voice  calmly. 
"  One  of  the  reasons  that  I  did  n't  hurry  was  that  I 
wanted  to  give  you  a  chance  to  get  over  the  moodi- 
ness  that  you  were  showing  before  I  went.  What- 
ever the  trouble  is,  it  still  exists,  I  see.  I  think  it 
must  be  something  more  than  mere  moods.  So 
we  '11  thrash  it  out  at  once." 

"  Will  we  ?  "  without  giving  the  matter  any  very 
serious  thought.  She  had  made  up  her  mind  not 


i34      IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

to  meet  this  man  except  in  a  casual  way.  She 
would  meet  him  doubtless  —  that  would  be  sure  to 
happen  —  but  not  by  appointment. 

"  Yes.     Will  you  come  over?  " 

"'Oh  —  not  this  afternoon." 

"  Just  as  you  please,"  coolly.  "  I  '11  be  over  in  a 
few  minutes  then.  The  machine  is  outside." 

Elsie  fairly  gasped.  "  It  seems  to  me  you  are 
carrying  things  with  a  very  high  hand,"  she  said 
indignantly. 

"  Not  at  all,  dear  little  lady.  If  things  had  not 
been  with  us  as  —  well,  as  they  were  up  to  the  time 
of  that  fool  upset,  I  might  perhaps  accept  such  a 
sudden  change  of  front  as  a  mere  example  of  a 
woman's  whimsicality.  But  —  Oh,  well,  it 's  ri- 
diculous, of  course.  There  has  n't  been  time  for 
you  to  experience  a  real  change  of  feeling.  You  're 
adopting  an  attitude  for  some  reason  or  other.  I 
have  an  idea  what  that  reason  is,  and  it 's  a  foolish 
one.  "The  present  is  all  that  ever  matters.  You 
know  what  —  is  n't  it  Byron?  —  says : 

"  The  past  is  nothing  — " 

"  Go  on,"  commanded  Elsie,  more  to  be  saying 
something  than  because  she  wanted  to  hear  the  re- 
mainder of  the  quotation,  whatever  it  might  be. 

" — and  at  last, 
The  present  can  but  be  the  past !  " 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER      135 

Elsie  sighed  slightly.  "  Well,  there  's  some  com- 
fort in  that." 

"Of  course.  It 's  the  key  to  most  situations," 
coolly.  "  Wherefore,  attend  strictly  to  the  pres- 
ent—" 

"  Because  out  of  it  the  future  comes,"  injected 
Elsie  quickly. 

Renshaw  laughed  unaffectedly.  "  I  see  you  've 
been  staying  at  home  sharpening  up  your  repartee. 
I  shall  have  to  be  careful  where  I  tread  or  I  shall 
have  my  head  in  a  noose  in  no  time.  I  '11  collect  my 
wits  carefully  on  the  way  out.  Good-by  for  a  few 
minutes."  He  seemed  about  to  hang  up. 

"  Wait  a  minute,"  commanded  Elsie,  sharply. 
She  was  horrified  at  the  idea  of  his  coming  to  the 
house.  She  might  not  be  able  to  get  rid  of  him  just 
when  she  wanted.  Evidently,  for  all  his  pleasant 
speech,  he  was  not  a  man  to  be  easily  handled. 
"  You  know  it  won't  be  —  well  for  you  to  come 
here,"  she  said  hurriedly.  "  And  I  don't  want  to 
come  down  to  the  city  this  afternoon.  WTiat  —  ?  " 
She  hesitated.  What  had  she  been  in  the  habit  of 
doing,  she  wondered. 

"  Well,  go  round  to  Addie's,"  he  said  in  a  tone 
that  indicated  that  as  a  usual  procedure. 

"Supposing  Addie  isn't  going  to  be  in?"  de- 
murred Elsie. 

"  I  '11  call  her  up  and  see,"  calmly.  "  Hang  up 
and  I  '11  call  you  in  a  few  minutes." 


136      IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

Elsie  obeyed  and  sat  nervously  biting  her  lips, 
baffled,  bewildered,  a  sense  of  greater  difficulty  than 
ever  before  lowering  over  her.  She  was  conscious, 
too,  of  a  feeling  of  rage  and  obstinacy.  Why  should 
she  be  forced  to  be  pleasant  and  considerate  to  this 
man  if  she  did  not  want  to  be?  But  then,  after  a 
few  minutes,  common  reasonableness  thrust  itself 
upon  her  mood.  It  was  quite  plain  upon  what  terms 
of  lover's  intimacy  this  man  and  that  other  Elsie  had 
been.  It  was  not  to  be  expected  that  he  would  ac- 
cept a  complete  and  sudden  reversal  of  affairs  with- 
out at  least  an  explanation.  She  had  been  foolish 
ever  to  suppose  he  would.  And  what  explanation 
could  she  make?  She  might  tell  him,  of  course  — 
as  she  would  have  to  —  that  she  wished  and  intended 
to  end  things.  But  he  would  naturally  demand  to 
know  why,  and,  he  had  almost  a  right  to  that  much 
consideration.  Because,  in  the  building  up  of  the 
present  state  of  affairs,  her  predecessor  had  un- 
doubtedly been  at  least  an  equal  party.  It  was  not, 
as  he  said,  possible  for  any  one  to  experience  any 
very  decided  change  of  heart  in  so  short  a  space 
of  time;  and  if  it  were  some  vexation  or  offense  — 
what? 

She  wondered  what  that  probable  thing  was  that 
he  had  in  mind  as  a  reason  for  her  change  of  front. 
From  the  fairly  casual  way  in  which  he  had  spoken, 
she  did  not  think  it  could  be  anything  to  do  with  — 
Oh,  no.  Una  Hamby  could  not  have  approached 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER      137 

him  yet,  even  if  she  ever  did  intend  to  risk  anything 
as  open  as  that.  But  thinking  of  Una  made  Elsie's 
nervous  frown  deepen.  On  her  account  alone  she 
could  not  deal  with  Willett  as  she  would  like.  She 
must  not  furnish  corrobo ration  of,  or  lend  strength 
to,  any  statement  she  might  choose  to  make  in  fu- 
ture. Elsie  thought  the  thing  over  and  over;  and 
then,  in  Willett's  case  as  in  every  other,  she  finally 
had  to  leave  things  to  the  lucky  inspiration  of  the 
moment.  Except  that  the  affair  must  end.  That 
was  all  she  really  knew  as  yet. 

In  a  few  minutes  the  bell  near  her  rang.  She 
took  down  the  receiver. 

"It's  all  right,"  said  the  voice  lightly.  "Just 
in  time  to  catch  her." 

"  To  catch  her,"  echoed  Elsie.  "  Why,  did  you 
make  her  stay  in?  " 

"  Why,  of  course,"  with  a  laugh.  "  Don't  we 
need  her  ?  That  won't  hurt  her.  She  was  n't  going 
anywhere  in  particular,  anyway.  Now,  put  on  your 
wrap  and  go  round,  Lily  Girl.  I  'm  going  straight 
out." 

Elsie  agreed  quietly  enough,  hung  up,  and  went 
straight  upstairs.  She  sat  down  in  her  favorite 
chintz  chair  and  folded  her  arms  in  a  sort  of  quaint 
attitude  of  resignation.  Another  ordeal !  Well, 
there  was  one  thing:  nowadays  she  did  not  tremble 
so  much  inside  as  at  first.  One  can  get  used  to  any- 
thing, so  they  say;  and  the  unknown  and  the  un- 


138      IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

usual  were  becoming  the  usual  with  her.  The  con- 
centration discipline,  too,  that  she  was  giving  her- 
self had  done  much  for  her. 

She  glanced  down  at  her  dress.  She  was  still  in 
the  smoke-gray  cloth,  for  which  she  had  conceived 
a  great  affection.  Nothing  else  suited  her  for  morn- 
ing wear.  But  it  would  not  do  for  an  afternoon 
occasion.  She  went  to  the  wardrobe  closet  and  con- 
sidered ;  and  though  she  did  not  know  it,  the  eternal 
woman  in  her  was  uppermost  as  she  did  so.  She 
did  not  know  this  man  she  was  going  to  meet;  she 
was  prepared  not  to  like  him  and  did  not  want  him 
to  like  her.  But  she  had  not  the  least  idea  in  the 
world  of  putting  on  anything  unbecoming  in  which 
to  go  forth  to  the  meeting.  She  chose  the  gown  of 
golden-brown  chiffon  velvet. 

Elsie  was  never  too  much  perturbed  to  stand  and 
lovingly  admire  herself  in  each  combination  of  color 
and  line  as  she  put  it  on.  She  felt  that  she  was  not 
admiring  herself  —  not  in  the  least.  That  was  the 
strange  part  of  it.  As  she  looked  now  at  the  effect 
of  her  hair  and  eyes  against  the  brown,  she  decided 
that  her  predecessor  had  either  had  excellent  taste 
and  color  sense,  or  else  her  dressmaker  had  had  them 
for  her.  High  shoes  of  a  deep  cream  kid,  a  belted 
coat  of  tan  Bolivia,  a  brown  sailor  of  beaver  felt, 
and  she  was  ready  to  walk  round  to  Addie's. 

She  did  not  hurry  at  all  in  her  walk.  In  fact,  she 
almost  dawdled.  But  it  seemed  to  her  that  she  was 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER      139 

there  in  no  time.     Addie  herself  opened  the  door. 

"  Oh,  you  walked,"  she  commented. 

"  Yes.     One  of  the  lost  arts,"  smiled  Elsie. 

She  entered  and  a  man  arose  from  one  of  the 
largest  of  Addie's  many  lounge  chairs.  His  atti- 
tude in  the  chair  was  so  easy  that  Elsie  was  some- 
how surprised  to  see  a  big  man  come  toward  her. 
Forgetting  how  it  might  seem,  she  gazed  almost 
breathlessly  at  him.  She  saw  an  indisputably  hand- 
some man  —  a  study  in  black  and  white,  at  first 
glance ;  very  dark  hair  and  eyes,  and  brows  with  a 
faint  whimsical  upcurve.  His  skin  was  sallow,  but 
with  a  healthy  pallor.  He  had  the  air  of  a  man 
who  all  his  life  had  had,  and  immediately,  anything 
and  everything  he  wanted,  including  the  deference 
and  obedience  of  others.  But  the  air,  far  from  be- 
ing assumed,  seemed  to  exist  in  spite  of  him,  and 
in  spite  of  an  easy,  unobtrusive  manner. 

"  Give  me  your  coat,"  exclaimed  Addie,  breaking 
in  on  her  fascinated  gaze.  "  You  two  are  going 
to  quarrel  most  frightfully.  I  can  see  it  coming. 
And  I  'm  going  to  skip  upstairs  until  the  storm  is 
over." 

"  No,  we  're  not,"  cried  Elsie,  clutching  at  the  re- 
treating woman.  "  Don't  go,  Addie." 

But  Addie  was  already  scampering  with  gleeful 
chuckles  up  the  staircase. 

Elsie  gave  a  little  helpless  sigh  and  stood  without 
making  any  move  to  enter  the  room.  And  Renshaw 


140      IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

stood  and  looked  down  at  her,  his  eyes,  curious  and 
searching,  traveling  over  every  line  of  her  face. 
And  though  she  never  suspected  it,  Elsie's  face 
pleaded  for  her,  showing  forth  an  explanation  of 
anything  strange  she  had  done  or  said.  For  though, 
to  the  man  who  knew  her,  not  a  line  of  the  full  oval 
face  had  shrunk,  not  a  tint  of  the  delicate,  glowing 
skin  had  dimmed,  yet  in  some  purely  spiritual  way 
she  looked  worn  and  fretted,  and  her  eyes,  dilating 
with  an  almost  extraordinary  livingness,  demanded 
and  questioned  as  they  looked  into  his. 

Renshaw  looked  thoughtfully,  intently,  at  her, 
puzzled  by  something  he  could  not  locate  nor  de- 
fine. This  woman  was  the  same,  and  yet  not  the 
same,  that  he  had  left  on  the  afternoon  of  the  col- 
lision. That  woman  had  been  nearly  won;  this 
woman  was  retreating  from  him.  This  woman  was 
physically  within  his  grasp  but  spiritually  already 
unapproachable.  This  latter  Renshaw  sensed  rather 
than  understood.  But  he  did  understand  that  this 
half-wistful,  half-defiant  being  was  more  desirable 
than  she  had  even  been  before.  He  smiled,  and  put- 
ting his  hand  gently  under  her  chin,  lifted  her  face. 
Then  he  bent  and  kissed  her. 

"Sweetheart!"  he  said  very  softly.  Whatever 
prediction  those  who  knew  him  might  make  as  to 
the  possible  outcome  of  this  infatuation,  there  was 
no  doubting  its  present  completeness. 

He  put  his  arm  round  her  shoulder  and  led  her 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER      141 

into  the  room.  Elsie  was  too  dazed  to  demur. 
There  seemed  nothing  to  do  at  present  but  follow 
his  lead. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

AS  they  reached  the  middle  of  the  room,  in  a 
matter-of-fact  way,  very  much  as  if  she  were 
some  little  girl  who  was  to  be  soothed  and  com- 
forted, Renshaw  picked  Elsie  up,  sat  down  in  one 
of  the  big  chairs,  placed  her  gently  on  his  knees, 
and  then  drew  her  down  into  his  arms  until  her 
head  rested  against  him. 

Swept  off  her  feet  figuratively  as  completely  as 
she  was  literally,  Elsie  made  a  queer  little  gasping 
remonstrance  which  passed  entirely  unheard.  And 
then  it  seemed  to  her  that  for  the  moment  she  lost 
herself  entirely,  was  conscious  only  of  the  physical 
contact,  the  strong  pressure  of  his  arms,  of  an  utter 
cessation  of  all  resistance  —  to  fate,  to  anything. 
She  drew  closely  to  him  and  pressed  her  face  hard 
against  his  coat.  Feeling  this  movement,  he  held 
her  still  more  closely  and  laid  his  face  against  her 
hair.  And  so  they  remained  for  a  few  minutes. 
Then  Elsie  goaded  herself  out  of  the  strange  physi- 
cal weakness  that  had  overcome  her  and  made  a 
movement  to  free  herself  from  the  encircling  arms. 
He  allowed  her  to  sit  upright,  though  his  arms  were 
still  about  her,  and  as  she  did  so  he  kissed  her 
gravely  on  lips  and  cheek.  Elsie  felt  the  color 
mount  in  a  hot  wave  over  face  and  neck. 

142 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER      143 

"  And  now,  sweetheart,"  he  drew  her  back  to  him 
and  laid  his  face  against  hers  caressingly,  "  tell  me 
all  about  it.  What  is  the  matter  ?  " 

Elsie  did  not  reply.  She  hardly  knew  what  to 
say  and  knew  not  at  all  how  to  say  it.  She  knew 
what  she  wanted  to  convey,  but  now  that  she  saw 
the  man  he  himself  was  one  of  the  biggest  hin- 
drances in  the  way  of  conveying  it.  He  had  al- 
ready given  her  more  sympathy,  more  real  under- 
standing, more  tenderness,  than  she  had  known  for 
—  oh,  than  she  had  ever  known,  as  far  as  she  could 
remember!  And  whatever  his  motive,  which  she 
did  not  altogether  know,  or  whatever  his  reputation, 
which  again  she  did  not  specifically  know,  she  could 
not  despise  him  as  she  had  thought  to,  could  not 
even  contemplate  very  seriously  offending  or  hurt- 
ing him.  As  in  Addie's  case,  there  was  something 
too  big  and  pleasant  about  him  to  be  despised. 
Why  should  the  personality  of  the  sinner  be  al- 
ways so  much  more  pleasant  than  that  of  a  saint? 
She  knew  now,  of  course,  what  she  had  to  do,  but 
she  could  not  tell  how  to  do  it.  So  she  was  silent. 

"  I  'm  waiting,  love,"  he  reminded  her  with  a 
slight  movement  of  his  cheek  as  it  lay  against  hers. 
"Be  frank  with  me  now.  It's  just  between  you 
and  me.  What  has  happened?  " 

"  Why,  nothing,"  replied  Elsie  uneasily.  "  That 
is,  nothing  tangible." 

"  Well,  what  intangible?  " 


144      IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

"Oh,"  impatiently.  "It'll  all  sound  silly  to 
you." 

"  Never  mind,"  calmly.     "  What  is  it?  " 

"  Oh,  only  that  — "  still  more  impatiently  — "  that 
I  've  seen  suddenly  where  I  was  going  —  and  know 
that  I  must  stop." 

"Oh,  is  that  all?"  From  his  tone  Elsie  knew 
that  he  had  expected  something  entirely  different, 
and,  somehow  she  gathered,  something  more 
weighty. 

"All?"  she  echoed.  "What  did  you  expect, 
then?  What  did  you  mean  when  you  said  you 
thought  you  knew  what  —  what  I  had  in  mind?  " 

"  Oh,  something  of  this  kind."  He  stroked  her 
hair  soothingly.  "  But  to  return  to  your  statement. 
Where  were  you  going  when  you  came  to  this  sud- 
den stop  ?  " 

"  Where  all  women  go  who  do  as  I  do,  I  sup- 
pose." 

He  laughed  and  brushed  her  cheek  indulgently 
with  his  lips.  "  I  'm  afraid  I  don't  know  the  where- 
abouts of  that  universal  bourne."  Then  with  the 
faintest  touch  of  impatience,  born  of  a  man's  love 
of  blunt  logic,  "  Come  now,  dear.  You  were  never 
one  to  hedge  like  this.  How  can  one  deal  with  an 
enemy  that  is  n't  even  outlined  ?  What  has  hap- 
pened to  frighten  you  so?  What  has  changed  my 
gay  little  lady-love  into  a  distrait  and  worried 
woman?  Tell  me  the  whole  truth." 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER      145 

"  I  want  to,"  said  Elsie  desperately ;  "  but  I  could 
never  make  you  understand,  entirely." 

"  Well,  try.  I  'm  not  usually  so  dense.  Do  the 
best  you  can." 

"  Well,  for  one  thing,  I  'm  afraid  of  the  divorce 
that  is  imminent  unless  I  mend  my  ways.  I  'm 
afraid  of  being  thrown  on  the  world.  I  'm  afraid 
of  being  thrown  on  the  mercy  of  men,"  doggedly. 

Renshaw  did  not  reply  for  a  moment.  Elsie  felt 
that  she  had  confused  impressions  —  said  something 
that  the  other  woman  could  not  have  been  expected 
to  say. 

"  You  speak  as  if  divorce  meant  just  one  thing 
and  that  one  thing  ruin,"  he  observed  then. 

"  Well,  it  does  —  does  n't  it?  " 

"  Not  necessarily.  It  means  as  many  things  as 
there  are  people  who  take  that  way  out  of  a  muddle," 
calmly.  "  Some  divorcees  end  badly  and  so  do  some 
of  every  class." 

"  You  talk  like  Addie,"  commented  Elsie,  with  a 
dry  little  smile. 

"  Very  likely.  Addie  has  a  good  deal  of  com- 
mon sense  hidden  behind  that  airy  manner  of  hers." 

"  It  is  possible  to  reason  from  any  premise,"  said 
Elsie,  half  wearily;  "  and  not  at  all  necessary  even 
that  the  premise  be  correct." 

"  And  what  is  this  premise?  " 

"  That  a  wrong  life  can  end  well,"  gently;  "  really 
well." 


146      IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

"  Oh,  I  don't  think  a  wrong  life  can.  But  what 
is  a  wrong  life?  That  is  a  definition  open  to  as 
many  variations  as  there  are  points  of  view." 

"  That  is  quite  true,"  agreed  Elsie.  "  But  what 
can  any  one,  whatever  his  point  of  view,  think  of  a 
woman  who  shares  a  man's  home  and  money  and 
name  and  then  makes  a  mock  of  him?  " 

"  Not  much,  to  be  candid,"  agreed  Willett  in  his 
turn.  "  But  why  do  it,  then  ?  Why  share  those 
things?" 

"  Well,  but  that  brings  me  to  my  dread  —  to  the 
divorce." 

"  You  never  used  to  have  such  a  dread  of  it.  In 
fact,  you  never  gave  it  a  thought  at  all,  that  I  'm 
aware  of,"  said  Renshaw  in  a  puzzled  way.  "  Who 
has  been  frightening  you?  Who  has  been 
painting  things  so  black?  And  even  supposing  for 
the  sake  of  argument  that  you  did  get  a  divorce. 
Why,  I  can  think  of  half  a  dozen  women,  divorced 
and  married  again,  and  leading  successful  lives." 

"  Hum."  Elsie  was  dubious.  "  When  they  were 
plainly  blameless  in  the  case.  Or  else  they  were 
wealthy  women  who  could  defy  public  opinion." 

"  Not  in  every  case.  And  if  it 's  the  money  ques- 
tion that 's  bothering  you  — " 

"  It  is  n't."  Elsie  drew  away  from  him  as  far  as 
she  could.  "  Don't  think  that.  Don't  misunder- 
stand me."  She  smiled  bitterly,  realizing  that  she 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER      147 

could  never  convince  him,  because,  in  the  first  place, 
he  did  not  intend  to  be  convinced.  He  was  not  lis- 
tening to  her  in  order  to  enter  into  her  feelings,  her 
motives,  in  the  case.  Not  at  all.  Only  listening  to 
grasp  her  present  point  of  view  in  order  to  be  in  a 
position  to  argue  it  away.  She  sighed.  "  You 
won't  believe  it.  Of  course  not.  But  I  really  do 
want  to  be  a  good  woman  as  far  as  it 's  in  me  to  be. 
I  'm  afraid  that  is  n't  very  far,  but  — " 

Renshaw  laid  his  head  back  in  the  chair  and  gazed 
at  her  long  and  steadily.  "  And  does  your  idea  of 
being  good  constitute  living  with  a  man  you  don't 
care  for  and  who  no  longer  cares  for  you?  " 

;<  Yes,  broadly  speaking.  That  same  man  gives 
me  an  honorable  standing." 

"  And  is  he  the  only  one  who  could?  " 

"  He  is  the  only  one  who  would." 

"  I  see.  You  have  n't  a  very  high  opinion  of  me, 
have  you?  " 

"  Oh,  don't  let 's  discuss  it  that  way,"  said  Elsie, 
deprecatingly.  "  There  has  never  been  any  talk  of 
—  of  marriage,  or  —  or  anything  like  that,"  she 
ventured. 

"  Not  in  so  many  words,  perhaps.  But  we  had 
come  to  know  and  realize  that  there  was  nothing 
possible  for  us  but  to  be  together." 

"  Oh,  well,  we  may  have  thought  that  way  for  the 
time  being,"  hazarded  Elsie ;  "  but  we  knew  it 


148      IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

would  n't  last.  You  and  I  should  n't  be  at  all  happy 
married,"  with  a  smile  that  apologized  for  the  harsh- 
ness of  the  words. 

"Why?"  Renshaw  looked  genuinely  surprised. 
"  Do  you  know  of  any  two  people  more  thoroughly 
comrades  than  we  have  been ?  I'm  not  going  to 
pretend  that  I  admire  every  bit  of  your  makeup.  I 
don't.  Any  more  than  you  do  all  of  mine.  But  I 
do  say  that  no  woman  ever  drew  me  to  her  as  hard 
as  you  have."  He  put  his  arms  closely  round  her 
again.  '  You  can't  have  forgotten  the  times  we 
have  had  together.  It  made  no  difference  how  much 
we  might  quarrel  —  the  pull  we  had  on  one  another 
was  too  much.  It  drew  us  back  every  time.  Why, 
darling,  remember  that  glorious  time  in  the  Silver 
Mountain  camp !  Remember  those  moonlight  nights 
on  the  Blue  Bird.  Oh,  you  can't  forget !  " 

"  No.     I  forget  nothing."     This  was  true  enough. 

"  Well,  then.  I  can't  conceive  what  has  been 
done  to  you,"  he  went  on  feelingly ;  "  it 's  incredible 
-  the  change.  I  've  never  known  a  woman  so  reck- 
less, so  fearless  in  her  splendid  vitality,  as  you.  I  've 
never  known  a  woman  who  faced  the  devil  and  the 
north  wind,  the  dawn  and  the  night,  as  you  did. 
And  now  you  're  a  timid,  broken-spirited  woman." 

"  No,  not  broken-spirited,"  objected  Elsie,  with 
sharp  conviction.  "  I  need  more  spirit  —  more  real 
spirit  —  in  what  I  am  trying  to  do  now  than  I  ever 
needed  in  my  life  before."  She  looked  at  him, 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER      149 

bravely,  but  with  a  little  involuntary  sigh,  pathetic 
in  its  weariness.  "  I  know  you  're  disappointed,  dis- 
gusted. I  think  you  have  a  right  to  be,  in  a  way.  I 
started  out  to  be  —  something  different.  But  it 
can't  be  helped.  The  woman  you  know  has  gone. 
Forget  her.  Please,  please,  believe  me.  I  am  not 
she." 

"Well!"  The  whimsical  upcurve  of  Renshaw's 
brows  straightened  out.  "  Perhaps  not.  But 
you  're  still  near  enough  like  her  to  be  dearer  to  me 
than  any  other  woman.  I  '11  forget  the  other 
woman,  as  you  say.  But  that  does  n't  release  you." 

"  Not  when  I  tell  you  that  I  want  you  to  —  that 
you  must? " 

"  No."  The  voice  was  heavy  and  almost  harsh 
with  determination.  "  A  thousand  times  no.  How 
can  you  tell  me  that  you  want  me  to,  when  a  few 
minutes  ago  your  body  lay  yielding  against  mine 
and  your  lips  returned  my  kiss !  " 

"  I  was  tired,"  said  Elsie,  falteringly. 

"  Perhaps  so,"  coolly.  "  But  that  did  n't  give  me 
the  kiss." 

Elsie  drew  her  hand  wearily  across  her  brows. 
This  was  harder  than  anything  she  had  yet  had  to 
do,  because,  for  one  thing,  she  could  not  quite  com- 
prehend her  difficulty.  Desiring  the  love  of  one 
man,  she  had  deliberately  given  herself  over  to  the 
caresses  of  another.  For  Willett  Renshaw's  love,  as 
his  love,  she  cared  not  at  all ;  and  yet  the  pressure  of 


150      IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

his  arms  satisfied  some  longing,  the  touch  of  his  lips, 
his  face  against  hers,  ministered  to  some  ache.  And 
the  worst  of  it  all  was  that  she  did  not  seem  to  have 
been  allowed  to  decide  for  herself.  Her  body  had 
literally  stampeded  her  mind.  And  so  what  assur- 
ance had  she  that  it  would  not  happen  again?  She 
must  get  away  by  herself  and  try  to  think.  She  did 
not  want  to  offend  this  man  seriously.  Now  that 
she  knew  him,  she  could  not  dislike  him.  Besides, 
she  did  not  know  what  hold  he  might  have  on  her, 
which  would  appear  if  she  defied  him  openly. 
Alone,  after  a  while  she  could  think  it  all  out.  Just 
now  she  could  not. 

Meanwhile  Renshaw  watched  her  closely,  in  his 
eyes  a  strange  blending  of  expressions.  For  one 
thing,  he  mentally  cursed  that  fool  accident,  and  his 
own  folly  and  carelessness  that  had  at  least  con- 
tributed to  it.  It  was  evidently  going  to  take  him  a 
long  time  to  undo  the  effects  upon  this  girl.  And 
that  afternoon  she  had  been  more  nearly  his  than 
ever  before ;  her  spirit,  reckless  and  vital,  had  flamed 
up  to  meet  his.  If  only  he  had  not  allowed  her  to 
persuade  him  to  turn  back  home !  he  was  regretful ; 
but  his  momentary  anger  had  already  died  out. 
When  he  spoke  again  it  was  quite  gently : 

"  And  then,  what  about  me,  Elsie  ?  Have  I  no 
part  in  this  love  that  you  propose  to  cast  aside  as  no 
longer  expedient  ?  " 

Elsie  took  the  shielding  hand  down  from  her  eyes 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER      151 

and  smiled  —  a  very  wise,  tired  little  smile.  "  Yes, 
a  man's  part  —  which,  you  know,  is  always  trans- 
ferable." 

"Indeed?"  Renshaw  smiled  too.  "When  did 
you  take  to  sarcasm?  And  besides,  I  haven't  shown 
any  signs  of  transferring,  have  I?  " 

"  No."  Elsie's  smile  deepened  into  real  amuse- 
ment. "  Is  n't  that  all  that  is  really  troubling  you? 
That  has  always  been  your  prerogative,  you  know." 

"'Always'?"  with  a  slight  uplifting  of  the 
brows,  "  How  many  are  required  to  constitute 
that?" 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know,"  thoughtfully.  From  what 
Alan  had  said  she  inferred  a  good  many.  "  I  'm 
not  up  in  history.  But  I  suppose  —  a  few." 

"  Yes,"  imperturbably.  "  Always  will  be  in  the 
case  of  a  man  with  a  disposition  to  enjoy  life,  and 
time  and  money  at  his  disposal.  It 's  merely  an  ex- 
change of  conveniences.  The  man  barters  his  time 
and  money  for  companionship  in  those  pleasures 
which  the  women  usually  could  not  obtain  for  them- 
selves. It 's  understood  on  both  sides,  and  no  wrong 
done  to  either." 

"  Yes.  Of  course.  That 's  the  understanding  we 
began  with,"  said  Elsie,  shyly. 

"  Yes,  began.  But  in  our  case  an  unconsidered 
factor  entered."  Elsie  looked  questioning.  "  The 
law  of  attraction." 

Elsie  nodded.     Then  she  sat  quiet  for  a  few  min- 


152     .IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

utes  from  sheer  inability  to  decide  what  was  the  next 
best  thing  to  do  or  say.  All  that  she  said  failed  of 
its  point,  it  seemed.  The  striking  of  the  bronze 
clock  furnished  an  inspiration.  It  struck  four. 

"  Oh,  I  must  be  going,"  she  said,  starting. 
"  Let 's  call  Addie." 

He  too  had  been  thoughtful,  his  eyes  resting  on 
her  face.  Apparently  he  saw  no  use  in  prolonging 
the  argument  they  had  been  pursuing.  Having  his 
mind  made  up,  further  discussion  was  more  likely 
to  be  detrimental  than  useful.  So  he  withdrew  his 
arm  from  about  her  and  allowed  her  to  rise. 

"  I  'm  going  to  run  upstairs  to  Addie  for  a  min- 
ute or  two.  Will  you  wait?  " 

He  nodded.     "  Yes,  I  suppose  so." 

She  looked  at  the  man  still  watching  her  and 
smiled,  trying  hard  to  make  her  smile  a  casual  one. 

"Well,  do  we  understand  each  other?  Have  I 
made  you  understand  ?  " 

He  rose,  laid  a  hand  lightly  on  her  shoulder,  and 
placing  two  fingers  of  his  other  hand  under  her  chin, 
gently  raised  her  face. 

"  Never  mind  what  I  understand.  The  question 
is :  Do  you  understand  me  ?  " 

Elsie  looked  at  him  with  embarrassed  eyes.  "  I 
hope  so.  I  hope  you  're  going  to  respect  my  wishes 
and  act  the  part  of  a  man." 

"  Oh !  "  He  laughed.  "  That  much  I  can  prom- 
ise you.  I  shall  act  the  part  of  a  man!  " 


CHAPTER  XV 

THE  days  following  her  afternoon  with  Ren- 
shaw,  Elsie  was  more  miserable  than  at  almost 
any  time  since  her  changed  life  began.  Resentful 
and  impatient  as  she  had  been  at  the  errors  and  en- 
tanglements that  she  had  been  forced  to  assume, 
heretofore  through  it  all  she  had  been  upheld  by  the 
consciousness  of  actual  righteousness  and  the  in- 
stinctive assurance  that  because  of  it  she  would  be  led 
safely  to  a  just  and  satisfactory  outcome.  So  far 
nothing  had  been  of  her  own  doing ;  she  had  a  right 
to  demand  that  much.  Now  she  had  lost  that  con- 
solation, that  assurance,  because  of  wrong-doing  on 
her  own  part,  actually  of  her  own  volition.  And  not 
only  that.  One  lapse  from  the  plain  and  appointed 
path  could  be  forgiven  to  any  one,  if  it  were  re- 
pented and  the  mind  firmly  set  against  a  repetition. 
But  Elsie  could  not  be  at  all  sure  of  that.  At  pres- 
ent she  felt  her  only  safety  to  be  in  hiding  and  seclu- 
sion, an  unbroken  maintenance  of  neither  of  which 
was  practical  or  to  be  depended  upon.  And  evi- 
dently so  far  she  could  not  depend  upon  herself. 
She  was  a  city  divided  against  itself.  In  this  par- 
ticular connection  she  could  not  even  make  a  res- 
olution and  keep  it.  When  Renshaw  called  her  up, 

153 


154     IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

as  he  did  each  day,  and  she  heard  the  peculiarly  rich 
voice  speaking  so  gently  to  her,  she  could  not  snub 
and  rebuff  him  as  she  had  been  able  to  do  before 
knowing  him.  What  she  supposed  she  should  have 
done  by  the  actual  rights  of  the  case,  was  to  forbid 
him  to  use  her  telephone  or  to  communicate  with  her 
with  such  regularity.  But  that  seemed  physically 
and  morally  impossible.  For  one  thing,  she  was 
afraid  of  him,  realizing  full  well  now  that  she  came 
to  know  him  that  he  was  not  a  man  to  take  trifling 
treatment  complaisantly.  Sometimes,  as  it  was,  she 
felt  that  the  unvarying  refusals  with  which  she  met 
his  invitations  were  taken  with  ominous  good  nature. 
However,  she  trusted  to  a  gradual  wearing  out  of  his 
patience.  It  was  the  best  she  could  do  with  herself 
—  and  him. 

She  worked  almost  furiously  at  her  music,  singing 
and  playing  —  not  desultory  performance  of  either, 
but  actual  drill  —  for  hours  a  day,  and  kept  her 
housekeeping  tabulated  down  to  an  exceedingly  fine 
point.  Still,  she  could  not  refuse,  nor  wear  away, 
that  restless,  longing  energy,  that  eager  yearning  - 
for  something  —  that  was  almost  a  physical  ache. 

"  Beginning  to  be  about  ready  to  give  up  ?  "  in- 
quired Addie  one  morning.  She  was  on  her  favor- 
ite divan,  nestled  up  into  a  delightful  little  bundle 
of  silks  and  curls,  and  she  looked  across  at  her  friend 
with  roguish,  yet  withal  speculative,  eyes. 

"  I  don't  know.     What  do  you  do  when  you  want 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER      155 

to  give  up  and  there's  nothing  to  give  up  to?"  in- 
quired Elsie. 

"  Dear  me !  "  Addie  apparently  wrestled  with  the 
problem.  "  That 's  like  the  man  who  could  n't  stand 
up  and  could  n't  sit  down.  And  history  does  n't  re- 
cord what  compromise  he  finally  hit  upon,  which  is  a 
pity.  It  might  have  helped  us."  Addie  chatted 
blithely  on;  but  her  mind  was  by  no  means  as  va- 
cant as  her  chatter.  "  I  suppose  before  we  can 
squarely  and  scientifically  discuss  the  question  we 
must  ascertain  what  it  is  you  want  to  give  up." 

"  Oh  —  What  does  any  one  mean  when  he  says 
he  wants  to  give  up?  The  whole  problem  of  living, 
I  suppose." 

'  That  has  a  sort  of  suicidal  sound,"  said  Addie, 
speculatively.  "  Not  contemplating  suicide  are 


you 


Elsie  laughed  —  a  laugh  whose  ill  nature  was  all 
for  herself.  "  I  don't  know.  Sometimes  I  think 
I  should  like  to  take  this  discontented  old  carcass 
down  to  the  river  and  dump  it  in." 

Addie  elevated  her  eyebrows  in  mock  surprise. 
"  Well,  now,  I  always  thought  that  was  a  pretty  nice 
carcass  of  yours." 

"  Humph !  "  said  Elsie,  by  way  of  comment. 

Addie  kept  her  bright  eyes,  with  their  mingled 
amusement  and  discernment,  on  the  face  before  her. 
She  saw,  as  Renshaw  had  done,  that  singular,  worn 
look  which  was  so  certain  and  yet  whose  outline  or 


156      IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

abiding  place  could  not  be  traced ;  and  which  was  in 
such  contradiction  to  the  glowing  vitality  and  super- 
abundant health  of  the  girl.  But  Addie  was  high- 
bred. She  would  not  even  look  very  long  at  a 
trouble  that  insisted  on  discovering  itself  without  the 
owner's  consent. 

"  How  is  the  world,  meaning  you,  using  the  re- 
doubtable Annie  nowadays?  "  she  asked  presently. 

Elsie's  face  relaxed  into  an  almost  roguish  smile. 
"  Very  badly,  to  judge  by  the  expression  of  her 
face." 

"  You  know,  you  must  use  a  little  judgment  in 
manipulating  matters  and  not  overcrowd,"  advised 
Addie.  "  Or  else  temper  will  get  the  better  of 
Annie's  discretion  and  one  of  these  fine  mornings  she 
will  take  up  her  trunk  and  walk." 

"  Well  —  she  may,"  declared  Elsie,  entirely  unim- 
pressed with  the  possible  catastrophe. 

"  Have  you  any  one  else  in  view  ?  "  inquired 
Addie. 

"  No.  But  I  know  that  Annie  is  not  the  only  maid 
in  the  city.  Of  course  she  's  a  good  cook  —  oh,  and 
a  good  worker,  too.  But  there  are  compensations. 
And  besides,  she  's  odious  to  me  now." 

Again  Addie  speculated  somewhat.  "  Well,  if 
she  should  depart  suddenly,  call  me  up  at  once.  I  '11 
get  Lottie  to  run  over  and  tide  you  over  the  worst." 
Then,  before  Elsie  could  make  any  attempts  at  ex- 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER      157 

planations  or  thanks,  "  And  now  go  and  sing  me  that 
gypsy  song.  I  just  love  it." 

Elsie  obeyed,  tacitly  accepting  the  ending  for  the 
time  being  of  troublesome  subjects. 

One  little  reward  came  to  Elsie  as  a  result  of  her 
strenuous  reformatory  measures  in  the  housekeeping 
line.  That  was  at  the  beginning  of  the  month,  when 
the  bills  came  in  again.  She  took  care  to  be  present 
every  morning  until  they  had  all  arrived  and  watched 
Alan  intently  as  he  opened  each  one.  In  almost 
every  instance  he  was  plainly  surprised  and  finally 
made  frank  comment  on  the  improvement  in  the 
totals  shown. 

"  You  certainly  managed  to  make  your  hints  to 
Annie  effective,"  he  observed.  "  Already  there  's  a 
marked  difference  between  this  month  and  last." 

"  Yes."  Elsie  smiled  covertly  as  she  reflected  on 
the  nature  and  constancy  of  the  hints. 

"  Was  it  much  trouble?  "  he  inquired,  turning  his 
head  and  catching  the  fleeting  smile. 

"  No  more  than  I  cared  to  take." 

And  Alan  questioned  no  further.  Elsie  showed 
signs  of  becoming  that  rare  thing,  a  laconic  woman. 

It  was  not  very  much  trouble  —  or,  as  she  had 
said,  no  more  than  she  cared  to  take.  It  was  ulti- 
mately productive  of  more  trouble;  but  even  so, 
again  no  more  than  Elsie  was  willing,  even  glad,  to 
take.  For,  being  informed  one  morning  that  a 


158     IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

pound  of  butter  on  two  successive  days  was  not  to  be 
henceforth  any  part  of  the  Leland  housekeeping  plan, 
Annie  let  her  temper  suddenly  get  the  better  of  her 
judgment,  as  predicted.  She  departed  with  much 
haste  and  more  disdain,  amazed  even  to  the  last 
at  the  inexplicable  and  horrible  change  that  had 
come  over  her  one-time  complacent  and  highly  desir- 
able mistress,  who  now,  by  the  way,  received  the  an- 
nouncement of  her  instant  departure  with  astonish- 
ing equanimity,  even  to  the  extent  of  telephoning  an 
express  company  to  call  for  the  trunk. 

When  Annie,  having  expressed  her  sinister  inten- 
tions, had  gathered  up  her  aprons  and  such  belong- 
ings as  were  about  the  kitchen  and  had  gone  upstairs 
to  perform  the  supposedly  ominous  feat  of  packing 
her  trunk,  Elsie  remained  in  the  kitchen  and  took 
possession  of  this  final  and  hitherto  unattainable  por- 
tion of  her  kingdom.  Far  from  being  overwhelmed 
with  a  sense  of  catastrophe  or  loss,  of  being  afraid 
of  what  was  ahead  of  her,  she  was  secretly  delighted. 
And  when  the  door  of  the  house  closed  finally  on 
Annie  and  her  trunk,  Elsie  was  conscious  of  a  strong 
feeling  of  relief.  She  rummaged  and  investigated  in 
every  cupboard,  corner,  and  drawer  of  the  kitchen 
and  basement,  familiarizing  herself  thoroughly  with 
all  resources  and  equipment.  So  much  did  she  en- 
joy the  new  and  total  possession  of  her  home  that 
she  could  not  bring  herself  to  go  down  to  the  city 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER      159 

and  seek  another  maid.  She  gave  herself  one  whole 
day  of  complete  possession. 

The  feeling  of  insecurity  and  unreality,  of  tem- 
porary residence  only,  that  had  been  with  Elsie  dur- 
ing the  first  few  weeks  of  her  new  life,  had  faded  to 
an  almost  unbelievable  extent.  And  now  that  Annie, 
the  tangible  and  sinister  reminder  of  those  unknown 
former  days  and  things,  was  gone,  Elsie  felt  the  love 
that  had  been  growing  up  in  her  for  her  beautiful 
home  —  full  of  trial  and  anxiety  as  the  terms  of  her 
possession  were  —  take  on  a  new  quality.  Now,  but 
for  that  warning,  haunting  thought  of  Una  Hamby 
forever  in  the  background  of  her  consciousness,  it 
would  really  seem  her  home. 

Far  from  calling  up  Addie  in  consternation,  as  she 
was  supposed  to  do,  Elsie  set  about  her  plans  for 
dinner  with  almost  girlish  glee.  There  was  the  best 
part  of  a  roast  of  beef  and  mayonnaise  in  the  safe, 
and  lettuce  and  asparagus  were  ordered.  So  Elsie 
took  down  one  of  three  cook-books  that  stood  on  the 
kitchen  shelf  and  cheerfully  bestowed  about  an 
hour's  study  upon  the  subject  of  salads  and  desserts. 
She  decided  upon  cup  custards  as  being  about  the 
simplest  dessert  for  a  novice  to  experiment  upon. 
She  decided,  too,  to  have  baked  potatoes  with  the 
cold  roast  beef  and  reflected  economically  that  one 
oven  would  cook  both  potatoes  and  custard. 

When  the  gas  oven  was  lighted  that  afternoon  and 


160     IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

the  potatoes  —  brushed  clean,  according  to  instruc- 
tions in  the  book  —  were  placed  therein,  and  the 
custards  mixed  and  hopefully  deposited  on  a  lower 
plane,  with  the  gas  turned  down  for  their  benefit,  also 
acccording  to  the  book,  Elsie  discovered  that  time 
was  fleeting.  She  set  her  table  and  then  ran  upstairs 
to  dress.  She  put  on  the  blue  crepe  de  chine  as  being 
probably  less  susceptible  to  kitchen  influences  than 
most  of  her  other  gowns.  Going  back  into  the 
kitchen,  she  needed  an  apron,  but  had  never  seen  any- 
thing of  the  kind  among  her  belongings.  So,  after 
the  fashion  of  all  women  when  confronted  with  that 
emergency,  she  selected  the  largest  tea  towel  and 
pinned  it  about  her. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

NO  young  hostess,  giving  her  first  dinner  of  im- 
portance, ever  viewed  her  table  with  more 
pride  than  did  Elsie  as  she  struck  the  gong  for 
dinner  that  night.  Alan  looked  faintly  surprised 
on  entering  the  room  to  see  her  already  there  and 
moving  the  salad  dishes  into  more  imposing  posi- 
tions. But  it  was  not  until  she  rose  to  fetch  the  for- 
gotten butter  that  he  made  any  comment. 

"  Is  Annie  out,  then?  " 

"  Yes,"  calmly,  "  for  good." 

Alan  looked  up  in  surprise.  "  Oh."  And  then, 
"  Very  sudden,  is  n't  it?" 

"  Yes,  and  no." 

"Meaning?" 

"  Why,  the  actual  departure  was  sudden  —  yes," 
explained  Elsie.  "  But,  like  everything  else,  a  train 
led  up  to  it." 

"  I  see.  The  economy  business,  I  suppose." 
Alan  looked  amused.  "  I  thought  the  effect  was  too 
good  for  so  short  a  time.  I  'm  afraid  you  crowded 
the  reform  operations  a  little,  did  n't  you?  " 

"  I  did  n't  try  to  reform  her.  I  merely  decided 
that  certain  abuses  should  cease,  once  for  all,"  said 
Elsie,  coolly.  "  I  suspected  from  the  first  that  she 
would  go,  once  she  realized  that  — " 

161 


1 62      IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

"  That  you  meant  business,"  suggested  Alan. 

''  Yes.  And  that  I  should  n't  relax  vigilance.  I 
did  n't  show  any  signs  of  improvement.  In  fact,  I 
got  worse.  And  so  —  I  'm  glad  she  's  gone." 

"When  did  she  go?" 

"  This  morning." 

"  Oh."  Alan  glanced  round  the  table  with  re- 
newed interest.  "  And  so  you  got  this  meal  your- 
self ?  " 

"  Yes,  of  course." 

"  Well,  I  don't  mind  if  I  never  have  a  worse,"  he 
commented. 

When  Elsie  rose  to  bring  on  the  dessert,  Alan  got 
up  too  and  carried  out  the  beef  and  some  of  the 
dishes ;  and  when  the  meal  was  over  he  helped  busily 
with  the  clearing  of  the  table,  apparently  faintly 
amused  at  the  whole  proceeding. 

Then  he  went  to  his  books,  but  Elsie  stayed  in  the 
kitchen.  She  washed  the  silver  and  piled  the  dinner 
dishes.  And  then,  deciding  that  as  the  early  morn- 
ings were  still  chilly  she  would  get  breakfast  on  the 
range,  she  examined  the  contents  of  the  wood  lift. 
Following  the  examination  she  went  down  into  the 
basement  and  loaded  the  lift  with  kindling  and  fine 
wood,  superimposed  upon  the  heavier  wood  already 
contained.  She  was  still  busy  and  greatly  interested 
in  her  new  role,  when  Alan  came  down  and  found 
her. 

"  What  are  you  doing?  " 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER      163 

"  Oh,  just  getting  my  wood  ready  for  the  morn- 

ing." 

"  Well,  leave  it  alone,"  looking  at  her  in  mingled 
surprise  and  amusement.  "  I  '11  see  that  the  wood 
lift  is  filled  before  I  go  in  the  morning." 

"Before  you  go?"  echoed  Elsie.  "But  how 
about  breakfast?  " 

"  Well,  you  can  get  up  and  get  yours  at  your 
leisure.  I  '11  get  mine  in  town." 

"Why?"  demanded  Elsie  almost  resentfully. 

"  Why  —  for  convenience,  of  course.  Don't  you 
think  I  can  accommodate  myself  to  an  emergency 
when  necessary?  " 

"  No  doubt.  But  this  is  n't  an  emergency,  that  I 
can  see,"  promptly.  "If  you  can  be  content  with 
coffee  and  toast  and  that  sort  of  thing,  it  will  ,be 
there  to-morrow  morning." 

"  Oh,  all  right."  Alan's  amusement  seemed  to 
increase.  But  he  wound  up  the  wood  lift  without 
any  further  comment. 

Not  trusting  herself  to  awake  in  time  in  the  morn- 
ing, Elsie  took  up  to  her  room  the  kitchen  alarm 
clock  and  set  it  for  half -past  six.  And  what  is  more, 
when  it  rang  she  jumped  out  without  a  moment's 
compromise. 

When  shortly  after  seven  Alan  came  into  the 
kitchen,  the  range  was  roaring  merrily,  the  kettle 
boiling,  and  Elsie  was  standing  regarding  with  puz- 
zled eyes  the  coffee  percolator. 


1 64      IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

"  What  did  you  get  up  so  early  for  ?  "  inquired 
Alan.  "  I  should  have  had  the  fire  lighted  in  time." 

"  I  wanted  to  have  the  fun  of  doing  it  myself," 
explained  she.  "  Do  you  know  how  this  thing 
works  ?  It 's  beyond  me  at  present." 

Alan  smiled,  took  the  percolator,  and  made  the 
coffee,  while  Elsie  put  the  toaster  on  the  stove  and 
got  out  the  egg-poacher. 

"  Let 's  have  breakfast  in  the  kitchen,"  said  Alan, 
with  a  glance  at  the  wall  table  near  the  window. 

"  Oh,  yes !  "  Elsie  hailed  the  idea  with  enthusi- 
asm. "  That  '11  be  nice." 

She  brought  in  eggs,  cut  slices  of  bread  for  the 
toast,  and  then  discovered  the  folding  supports  of 
the  wall  table,  got  it  into  position,  and  set  it  with 
china  and  silver. 

The  two  ate  a  very  comfortable  breakfast  together, 
and  Elsie  noted  with  strictly  secret  satisfaction  that 
Alan  did  not  hurry  over  it.  Then  he  went  to  town, 
with  a  faint  suspicion  of  amusement  still  in  his  eyes 
and  lurking  about  the  corners  of  his  lips. 

Like  Annie,  he  attributed  the  great  change  in  Elsie 
mostly  to  the  accident.  He  divined  that  her  some- 
what perilous  position  had  been  shown  her  as  in  a 
flash.  Time  would  dim  the  effect  of  the  revelation 
and  bring  things  back  to  something  like  the  previous 
level,  he  supposed.  Still,  he  had  never  dreamed  that 
Elsie  had  it  in  her  to  show,  even  for  a  time,  such 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER     165 

capability  and  backbone  as  she  was  showing  mean- 
while. 

Elsie  visited  the  best  agency  in  the  city  in  search 
of  a  maid,  and  as  the  conditions  of  the  position  she 
had  to  offer  were  all  eminently  satisfactory,  she  ob- 
tained easily  a  young  and  pleasant  looking  Danish 
woman.  Having  no  other  precedent,  this  woman, 
Ada  by  name,  accepted  Elsie's  frequent  presence  in 
the  kitchen  as  a  matter  of  course;  and  from  the  first 
Elsie  took  into  her  own  hands  entirely  all  ordering 
of  supplies  and  all  dealings  with  tradespeople.  Ada 
was  not  so  good  a  cook  as  Annie,  But  Elsie  was  not 
only  willing  but  glad  to  help  with  the  cooking  and 
menu  problem.  Each  day  she  helped  more  or  less 
with  the  cooking  of  the  dinner;  and  as  Ada  was  not 
so  swift  and  vigorous  a  worker  as  Annie,  she  also 
took  upon  herself  most  of  the  dusting  of  the  rooms. 

And  in  connection  with  this  new  order  of  things 
Elsie  discovered,  too,  a  new  weekly  duty  which 
Annie,  doubtless  from  diplomatic  reasons,  had  incor- 
porated into  her  own  routine.  She  opened  and  dis- 
tributed the  laundry  and  was  reminded  by  that  of 
the  necessary  overseeing  of  Alan's  clothing.  And 
one  thing  leading  to  another,  she  got  the  idea  of  going 
up  to  his  room  and  ascertaining  the  exact  state  of 
his  wardrobe.  What  she  found  made  her  ashamed 
and  intensely  disgusted  with  herself  that  she  had  not 
bethought  herself  of  this  duty  before.  Annie's 


1 66      IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

work,  while  perhaps  answering  the  purpose  for 
which  it  was  executed,  was  extremely  inartistic,  from 
ill-matched  buttons  to  coarse  stitching  and  cobbled 
socks. 

To  her  chagrin,  on  cutting  out  of  a  sock  one  of 
Annie's  cobbly  darns,  Elsie  found  that  her  own,  in 
spite  of  her  best  endeavors,  was  not  such  a  very 
great  improvement.  However,  she  could  soon  learn 
to  make  a  nice  flat  darn ;  she  knew  that.  And  in  the 
meantime  she  labored  and  prepared  to  the  best  of  her 
ability  two  pairs;  the  rest  she  took  to  his  room  for 
further  efforts. 

Elsie  spent  the  best  part  of  the  day  at  this  new 
work  and  did  not  realize  how  much  she  really  en- 
joyed it,  did  not  stop  to  note  that  this  was  the  first 
day  her  mind  had  been  busy  in  a  contented  way. 
She  did  admit  to  herself,  though,  that  she  liked  to  be 
in  Alan's  room ;  that  to  her  it  seemed  to  be  full  of  the 
cool,  magnetic  personality  of  the  man.  She  knew 
she  liked  touching  the  different  articles  because  they 
were  his  and  had  come  in  close  personal  contact  with 
him.  Once  she  found  herself  laying  her  cheek 
against  the  wonderful  glowing  fabric  of  the  Indian 
bathrobe.  She  smiled,  half  in  pity  for  herself.  She 
relined  the  drawers  of  the  room  and  closet  and  took 
the  hair-brushes  out  and  washed  them.  And  all  this 
she  did  with  the  quiet  satisfaction  and  inward  tender- 
ness of  a  woman  ministering  to  the  one  she  loves. 

As  the  days  went  by,  one  thing  became  clear  to 


IX  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER       167 

Elsie  and  she  did  not  attempt  to  deceive  herself  on 
the  point.  The  greatest  hurt  Una  Hamby  could  do 
to  her  would  be  through  Alan,  because  there  she 
cared  most.  And  the  more  she  thought  of  it  the 
more  probable  it  seemed  that  here  was  just  where 
Una  could  accomplish  most  —  in  fact,  about  the  one 
and  only  field  of  operation  in  which  she  could  work 
safely.  Having  a  knowledge  of  that  other  woman's 
past,  of  which  Elsie  herself  knew  nothing,  she  doubt- 
less had  at  her  disposal  many  things  which,  if 
brought  to  Alan's  knowledge,  would  be  disastrous. 
If  she  had  —  and  this  seemed  a  certainty  —  she 
would  most  assuredly  not  fail  to  use  her  knowledge 
to  the  utmost  of  its  vengeful  possibility. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

THINKING  things  over  one  afternoon,  Elsie 
found  herself  wondering  anxiously  whether 
or  not  Una  was  out  of  the  hospital  yet.  The  ques- 
tion was  forerunner  to  immediate  action.  She  went 
to  the  telephone  and  called  up  the  hospital.  She 
was  told  to  wait  a  minute  while  the  clerk  consulted 
her  records  and  then  was  informed  that  Miss  Hamby 
had  been  able  to  go  to  her  home  on  the  second  of  the 
month.  The  second  —  and  this  was  the  nineteenth. 
Over  two  weeks  ago.  Elsie  wondered  now  if  Una 
were  well  enough  to  be  back  at  work.  If  she  knew 
what  office —  When  she  had  questioned  him  that 
time  Willett  had  said  a  Calthorpe  and  his  secretary. 
This  Calthorpe  must  be  a  somebody  to  have  a  secre- 
tary. Probably  the  ever-useful  telephone  directory 
could  help  again,  and  she  took  it  up  at  once.  Cal- 
thorpe was  easily  found.  "  Calthorpe,  Eugene  R., 
Lake  Shore  &  Eastern  Railroad;  Blain  Bldg." 
Elsie's  eyes  widened.  Why,  that  was  Alan's  com- 
pany! She  sat  amazed.  It  had  never  occurred  to 
her  before  even  to  wonder  who  Una's  employer  was; 
it  seemed  of  little  importance.  Then  she  wbndered 
what  position  Calthorpe  held  in  the  company.  Some 

168 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER      169 

position  of  importance,  of  course  —  with  a  secretary. 
She  could  soon  discover  from  the  directory.  She 
looked  up  the  L.  S.  &  E.,  and  saw  that  a  private 
exchange  connected  all  departments.  She  called  the 
number  and  asked  the  operator  a  question. 

"  Is  there  a  Calthorpe  on  the  staff  of  the  L.  S. 
andE?" 

"  Do  you  mean  President  Calthorpe  ?  "  crisply. 

"  Oh,  yes.  Thank  you."  Elsie  hung  up,  then 
sat  thinking  and  wondering  again  for  a  few  minutes. 
Had  anything  been  left  out  that  could  have  made  the 
discomfort  and  muddle  more  complete?  It  must 
have  been  additionally  galling  for  Alan  to  have  the 
president  of  his  own  company  discover  his  wife  in 
the  company  of  another  man.  Of  course,  on  the 
face  of  it,  if  Calthorpe  knew  or  had  heard  of  noth- 
ing previously,  the  mere  fact  that  she  was  being 
driven  home  by  a  friend,  even  if  a  man,  was  not  in 
itself  remarkable.  Well,  anyway,  there  was  no  use 
in  turning  all  that  over  and  over  again.  She  could 
only  wonder  and  guess,  and  guessing  got  her  no- 
where. What  she  wished  to  know  now  was  whether 
or  not  Una  Hamby  was  back  at  her  post.  Her  post 
—  such  a  central,  keynote  position ! 

She  called  up  the  L.  S.  &  E.  again  and  asked  for 
the  president's  office.  It  was  given  her,  and  a  pleas- 
ant but  businesslike  woman's  voice  answered  her. 

"Is  this  President  Calthorpe's  secretary?"  asked 
Elsie. 


170      IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

"  Yes." 

"Miss  Hamby?" 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  the  voice  quickly.  "  Miss  Hamby 
won't  be  back  for  a  few  weeks  yet,  possibly  a 
month." 

"  Oh.     Her  shoulder  —  is  it  —  ?  " 

"  Knitting  very  nicely.  But  fractions  are  slower 
to  heal  than  breaks,"  detailed  the  voice  after  the 
pleasant  but  impartial  manner  of  one  trained  to  give 
information  and  information  only.  "If  you  wish  to 
call  up  her  home,  her  number  is  West  six-o-three." 

"  Thank  you."  Elsie  hung  up  with  a  grim  smile. 
She  had  not  the  least  desire  to  call  up  the  home  in 
question.  Still,  when  she  thought  of  Una,  although 
it  was  with  dread,  it  was  not  with  any  thought  of 
hatred  or  even  spite.  Una  was  too  desolate,  too  de- 
prived. When  Elsie  thought  of  all  the  other  girl 
faced,  over  and  above  what  she  herself  had  faced,  her 
soul  stood  still  with  pity. 

Three  weeks  —  perhaps  a  month.  Well,  that 
much  could  be  counted  as  safe  time.  Una  would 
hardly  begin  any  course  of  action  while  she  was  still 
at  home. 

As  conversation  became  more  extended  between 
Elsie  and  Alan  —  always  extremely  cautious  on 
Elsie's  part  —  she  came  to  know  his  favorite  dishes, 
and  tried  and  experimented  with  them  until  she  could 
cook  them  almost  as  well  as  Annie  had  done. 
Whereupon  they  continued  to  appear  on  the  table, 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER      171 

and  Alan  little  guessed  the  time  and  trouble  that 
sometimes  had  been  expended  upon  them.  He  did 
observe  for  himself,  however,  that  she  had  more  to 
do  with  the  household  management  than  formerly. 
He  noticed  on  Sundays,  for  one  thing,  that  she  al- 
most invariably  went  into  the  kitchen  before  each 
meal.  Moreover,  he  came  home  early  one  after- 
noon and,  finding  no  one  about,  went  into  the  kitchen 
and  discovered  her  enveloped  in  an  enormous  apron, 
making  mayonnaise.  She  turned  and  stared  at  him 
as  he  stood  in  the  doorway. 

"  I  've  come  to  see  if  I  can  beg  a  cup  of  tea,"  he 
explained.  "  I  've  had  a  beastly  headache  all  day." 

"Oh!  I'm  sorry,"  she  said  quickly.  "Go  and 
lie  down,  won't  you?  And  I  '11  make  you  some." 

Ada  offered  to  make  the  tea,  but  Elsie  had  no  idea 
of  foregoing  that  pleasure.  She  made  the  pot  of  tea 
herself  and  carried  it  into  the  living-room,  where 
Alan  had  taken  her  advice  and  was  stretched  upon 
the  lounge.  He  looked  very  tired,  almost  hollow- 
eyed.  Elsie  poured  out  a  cup  of  strong  tea  and  gave 
it  to  him. 

"  What  part  of  your  head  aches?  "  she  asked  him. 

"  Over  my  eyes,  and  the  temples." 

"  Hot  cloths  placed  over  the  eyes  give  a  lot  of  re- 
lief sometimes,"  she  ventured. 

"  Yes  ?  "  He  turned  and  looked  quizzically  at 
her.  "How  do  you  know,  Elsie?  I  didn't  know 
you  had  ever  had  a  headache  in  your  life." 


172      IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

Elsie  ignored  this.  "  Will  you  try  the  cloth  if  I 
bring  one  ?  "  she  inquired  gravely. 

"  Yes,  I  'd  be  glad  to." 

She  hastened  willingly  away  and  in  a  moment  or 
two  came  back  to  the  lounge  with  a  steaming  cloth 
clasped  closely  in  her  hands  to  keep  in  the  heat. 
This  she  placed  over  the  man's  eyes  and  as  it  cooled 
off  into  mere  warmth,  Alan  was  surprised  to  find 
it  quietly  lifted  and  another  take  its  place.  The  fifth 
cloth  she  allowed  to  remain  over  his  eyes,  wisely  re- 
flecting that  the  moisture  itself  would  probably 
soothe  and  relax  tired  nerves.  As  it  did,  for  Alan 
fell  asleep. 

It  was  after  the  usual  dinner  hour  when  he  awoke. 
The  pain  in  his  head  had  ceased;  so  sweet  was  the 
relief  and  the  sense  of  repose  that  he  lay  quiet  for  a 
few  minutes,  neither  moving  nor  speaking.  Elsie 
was  sitting  by  the  window.  She  had  been  reading, 
but  the  book  now  lay  on  her  knees,  her  hands  clasped 
lightly  over  it.  The  expression  of  her  face  was  so 
greatly  at  variance  with  the  woman  he  knew  that 
Alan  studied  it  in  mingled  surprise  and  curiosity. 
It  was  grave,  and  the  lips,  whose  curves  were  natu- 
rally so  sweet  and  alluring,  held  a  faint  little  smile  — 
an  understanding,  satiric  smile,  as  of  an  old,  disillu- 
sioned woman. 

Alan  wondered  afresh  at  Elsie.  Never  had  he 
known  her  to  have  a  repentant  spell  which  lasted  for 
even  a  quarter  the  time  of  this  one,  nor  which 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER      173 

changed  her  as  this  one  had.  What  could  actually 
be  the  cause  of  it?  That  there  was  a  cause,  which 
had  nothing  to  do  with  himself  or  any  words  of  his, 
he  did  not  for  a  moment  doubt.  Neither  did  he 
doubt  that  the  effect  would  eventually  pass,  as  all  the 
other  moods  of  this  strange  woman  had  passed. 

Still,  when  he  remembered  the  usual  program  dur- 
ing a  spell  of  repentance  or  discovery  —  usually 
synonymous  —  he  was  thankful.  Formerly  the 
short  fit  of  sulks  that  met  his  displeasure  had  been 
quickly  followed  by  a  persistent  demand  for  for- 
giveness and  caresses,  which  had  been  to  him  disgust- 
ing and  galling.  Now  he  could  almost  admire  her 
again.  For  at  least  she  was  not  playing  the  hypo- 
crite. So  entirely  platonic  and  businesslike  in  every 
particular  was  her  manner  in  all  the  details  of  their 
daily  intercourse,  that  his  own  could  not  more  than 
match  it. 

One  morning  Elsie  received  two  letters,  one  of 
which  amazed,  and  both  of  which  somewhat  ap- 
palled her.  One  was  from  a  Madame  Bonshall,  evi- 
dently her  dressmaker,  containing  a  statement  of 
account,  some  of  the  items  of  which,  Elsie  noted, 
were  over  seven  months  old.  The  amount  totaled 
two  hundred  and  eighty  dollars,  and  was  accom- 
panied by  a  polite  request  for  a  check.  The  other, 
from  Paris,  was  a  long,  chatty  epistle  full  of  names 
of  unknown  people,  and  signed  by  her  loving  mother. 

That  she  had  a  mother  in  Paris  Elsie  already  knew 


174     IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

from  the  letters  in  the  desk  upstairs ;  and  something 
of  her  she  also  knew,  for  both  Alan  and  Addie  had 
mentioned  her  now  and  again.  From  Addie  espe- 
cially, by  dint  of  carefully  conducted  conversations, 
Elsie  had  ascertained  with  much  relief  that  Mrs.  Van 
Duyn,  since  her  daughter's  marriage,  had  become 
devoted  to  Parisian  life:  and  that  about  three  letters 
yearly  were  all  she  found  time  to  write.  Elsie  also 
opined  from  what  she  could  gather  that  Mrs.  Van 
Duyn  was  an  ultra  stylish  and  very  worldly  woman, 
who  had  been  both  disappointed  and  disgusted  with 
her  only  daughter's  marriage.  In  connection  with 
all  this,  Elsie  had  often  congratulated  herself  that, 
seeing  she  had  to  be  picked  up  and  set  down  suddenly 
in  the  midst  of  strange  scenes,  she  had  been  put  in  the 
place  of  one  evidently  having  but  a  small  personal 
following. 

Barring  this  much-occupied  and  distant  mother, 
there  did  not  appear  to  be  any  very  near  relatives; 
and  of  close  personal  friends  there  seemed  to  be  none 
at  all  with  the  exception  of  Addie.  Of  acquaint- 
ances, when  abroad  with  Addie,  Elsie  found  she  had 
a  goodly  number.  Still,  none  ever  came  to  call  at 
her  home,  even  of  those  living  in  the  neighborhood. 
And  for  this  Elsie  was  convinced  in  her  own  mind 
that  she  was  able  to  assign  a  reason. 

At  first  she  was  inclined  to  be  puzzled  at  the  num- 
ber of  callers  at  Addie's  home  in  contrast  to  the  en- 
tire absence  of  callers  at  her  own,  seeing  that  Addie 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER      175 

lived,  and  as  far  as  she  could  gather,  always  had 
lived,  essentially  in  very  similar  manner  to  herself  — 
or  the  one  that  had  been  herself.  But  in  the  eyes  of 
the  world  the  great  difference  between  the  two 
women  was  this  —  that  Terry  McKeene,  when  at 
home,  was  plainly  in  accord  with  his  wife's  life,  at- 
tending anything  and  everything  with  her,  and  hav- 
ing just  as  gay  a  time  on  his  own  account  as  she  had 
on  hers;  while  Alan  had  not  been  seen  in  his  wife's 
company  for,  as  far  as  Elsie  could  judge,  at  least  a 
year  or  more. 

Of  course  Addie  McKeene  had  money  —  a  con- 
siderable amount,  Elsie  judged  —  and  of  her  own; 
this  might  make  some  difference.  But  not  all. 
Elsie  had  been  able  to  sum  up  the  situation  pretty  cor- 
rectly. It  was  the  sanction  and  countenance  of  the 
husband  that  decided  matters.  It  was  idiotic;  in 
keeping  with  most  of  the  judgments  that  the  world 
made;  and  Elsie  smiled  to  herself  when  she  thought 
it  over.  But  it  did  not  trouble  her  at  all.  The 
absence  of  friends  or  callers  was  a  distinct  advantage 
in  her  eyes.  So  much  less  to  cope  with ;  that  was  all. 

And  incidentally,  this  was  one  of  the  things  Elsie 
admired  in  Addie  McKeene  —  one  of  the  things  that 
helped  to  form  the  real  affection  she  was  beginning 
to  feel  for  that  blithesome  little  lady.  The  esteem  - 
or  rather,  lack  of  it  —  in  which  Elsie  was  evidently 
held  made  not  a  particle  of  difference  to  her  friend- 
ship, which  Elsie  gathered  was  of  lifelong  duration. 


1 76      IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

From  references  made  time  and  again  by  Addie  Elsie 
could  see  that  the  two  had  been  little  children  to- 
gether, at  school  together,  abroad  together. 

Elsie  thought  of  Addie  now,  as  she  sat  with  the 
two  letters  on  her  lap.  Presently  she  would  go  over 
and  read  her  mother's  letter  to  her.  Probably  from 
Addie's  comments  she  would  be  able  to  glean  much 
that  would  be  useful  in  answering  the  letter.  The 
dressmaker's  note  received  more  consideration. 
Elsie  was  very  much  disgusted  and  perturbed. 
She  reflected  disconsolately  that,  for  all  she  knew, 
there  might  be  outstanding  accounts  in  other  quar- 
ters. She  sat  and  thought,  idly  scanning  the  item- 
ized statement.  Then  a  way  presented  itself. 
There  were  the  garnet  necklace,  the  diamond  sun- 
burst, and  the  beautiful  diamond-and-pearl  marquise 
which  in  fear  and  disgust  she  had  locked  away. 
They  would  solve  the  problem  —  of  taking  both 
themselves  and  the  obnoxious  account  out  of  her 
existence.  To-morrow  she  would  take,  say,  the 
sunburst  down  to  one  of  the  big  jewelers  and  sell  it. 
She  decided  not  to  take  all  three  pieces  to  any  one 
jeweler.  It  might  cause  comment,  even  inquiry. 

As  she  sat  and  thought  of  it,  Elsie  felt  she  in- 
tensely disliked  this  way  of  eliminating  the  unfortu- 
nate jewels.  There  was  something  mercenary  and 
underbred  about  it.  But  still,  what  was  she  ever 
going  to  do  with  them?  They  had  been  accepted 
some  time  ago,  doubtless,  under  circumstances  and 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER      177 

conditions  of  which  she  knew  nothing.  To  offer  to 
return  them  now  would  be  absurd  —  moreover, 
dangerous.  And  she  doubted  that  the  time  would 
ever  come  when  it  would  be  safe  to  open  up  the  past 
to  that  extent.  And  she  did  want  them  out  of  the 
house.  She  did  not  see  how  else  she  could  pay  this 
dreadful  account,  either.  She  wondered  how  that 
other  woman  had  expected  to  do  it.  She  thought 
very  likely,  however,  by  the  way  he  kept  the  bank 
account  so  strictly  in  his  own  hands,  that  Alan  had 
been  confronted,  perhaps  periodically,  with  just  such 
accumulations  of  debt  as  this. 

Elsie  sighed.  Never,  never  in  this  world  could 
she  bring  herself  to  confront  him  with  such  a  list  of 
extravagances  as  this  statement  presented.  No,  she 
would  take  the  other  way  out  of  it.  That  was  dis- 
agreeable, also,  but  the  less  disagreeable  of  the  two. 

That  settled  satisfactorily  in  her  mind,  she  put  on 
her  hat  and  walked  round  to  Addie's.  If  she  should 
call  her  up,  Addie  would  offer  to  send  the  electric 
for  her.  Never  once  had  she  mentioned  the  road- 
ster since  Elsie's  refusal  to  use  it.  But  Elsie  had 
noticed  that  whenever  Addie  knew  beforehand  of  her 
arrival,  it  would  chance  that  Willett  Renshaw  would 
drive  up  in  the  midst  of  her  visit.  Elsie  knew  that  a 
hint  to  Addie  would  doubtless  end  this  series  of  co- 
incidences; but  on  reflection  she  refrained.  It  was 
quite  the  safest  way  of  meeting  him,  and  to  meet  her 
somewhere  every  so  often  he  was  at  present  plainly 


178     IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

determined.  She  had  attended  various  functions 
and  performances  with  Addie,  and  at  each  he  had 
joined  them.  But  then,  so  had  others.  And  as  the 
box,  or  best  position,  or  whatever  it  was  that  was 
necessary  to  the  best  enjoyment  of  the  affair,  had  in 
each  instance  been  provided  by  him,  as  Addie,  too, 
had  availed  herself  of  these  things,  Elsie  had  de- 
cided that  it  would  not  be  very  noticeable,  and  that 
she  had  better  make  the  best  of  it. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

ADDIE  was  playing  and  singing  with  much 
gusto  when  Elsie  entered.  She  had  a  voice  of 
no  power  and  only  very  medium  training;  but  she 
had  a  blithe,  impish  way  of  delivering  the  gay, 
swinging  songs  she  always  chose  that  was  immensely 
taking.  And  according  to  that  law  of  attraction  of 
opposites,  by  which  each  admires  and  envies  what 
he  has  not,  Elsie  longed  to  catch  the  inborn  knack 
which  Addie  had  of  lilting  out  catchy  and  more-or- 
less  popular  songs.  But  her  own  big,  vibrant  voice, 
laden  with  the  revelations  which  a  restrained,  pas- 
sionate nature  insisted  on  making,  made  that  class  of 
songs  sound  something  like  the  gambols  of  an  ele- 
phantine kitten,  and  robbed  them  of  all  charm. 
And  fortunately  Elsie  was  wise  enough  to  recognize 
this,  and  stick,  discontented  or  not,  to  the  songs  she 
could  sing. 

The  two  women  chatted  over  their  music,  over 
new  songs,  and  tried  scraps  of  this  and  that.  Then, 
when  they  tired  and  left  the  piano,  Elsie  produced  the 
letter  from  her  mother. 

"  Countess  Rospigne."  Addie  reflected  a  mo- 
ment. "  Oh,  yes  —  to  be  sure.  That  was  that  fat 

J79 


180     IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

Mrs.  Erdman.  You  remember  her."  Elsie  shook 
her  head.  "  Oh,  you  do !  why,  of  course  you  do ! 
Big,  fat  blonde  —  widow  of  that  wholesale  clothing 
man.  Used  to  do  up  her  hair  in  such  fearful  and 
wonderful  style.  I  knew  she  was  getting  ready  to 
be  a  countess,  or  something  like  that."  Addie  gave 
one  of  her  wicked  little  chuckles.  "  Maybe  you 
don't  just  remember  her  marriage,  although  she 
bought  up  almost  the  whole  of  the  society  pages  in 
the  Sunday  papers  that  week.  But  you  know  her  — 
would  if  you  saw  her.  Mrs.  Van  Duyn  does  n't  say 
anything  about  the  gentleman  with  the  double-bar- 
reled name  this  time,  does  she  ?  —  What  was  his 
name?  —  who  figured  so  much  in  the  last  letter." 

"  Can't  remember,"  said  Elsie,  truthfully  enough. 

"  Humph !  Lot  of  good  it  does  writing  to  you," 
commented  Addie.  "  Do  you  suppose  you  can  — 
go  over  and  visit  her?"  referring  to  Mrs.  Van 
Duyn's  request  to  that  effect. 

"  No,  I  don't  want  to,"  replied  Elsie  candidly. 

"You  don't!"  Addie  was  plainly  surprised. 
"  Why,  not  so  long  ago  you  were  crazy  to.  Are  n't 
you  going  anywhere  this  summer?  "  Without  wait- 
ing for  Elsie's  reply,  she  clasped  her  hands.  "  Oh, 
that  reminds  me.  Terry  will  be  in  next  week.  Had 
a  letter  this  morning.  Then  I  can  go  — " 

The  ringing  of  the  telephone  bell  cut  short  this 
speech,  and  Addie  swished  across  the  room  in  her 
light,  dainty  way.  Evidently  the  communicant  at 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER     181 

the  other  end  of  the  wire  had  but  a  short  request  to 
make,  for  the  conversation  as  far  as  Addie  was  con- 
cerned consisted  of  but  four  words,  "  Hello.  Yes. 
All  right." 

"  That  was  Willett,"  she  observed,  as  she  came 
back  to  her  seat  near  Elsie.  "  And  you  need  n't 
blame  me.  He  calls  up  each  day  to  know  if  you  're 
here,  or  going  to  be." 

Elsie  made  no  reply.  Addie  continued  impishly, 
"  Strange  what  a  little  reluctance  and  indifference 
will  do,  isn't  it?" 

"  Strange  what  it  won't  do,  you  mean,"  said  Elsie, 
a  trifle  crossly. 

"  How  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Why,  my  reluctance,  as  you  call  it,  is  intended  to 
have  the  exactly  opposite  effect  to  the  one  you  have 
in  mind." 

Addie  gazed  at  her  friend  a  moment  or  so,  and 
then  pursed  up  her  lips  with  a  comical  movement, 
either  intended  as  indicative  of  her  determination  to 
mind  her  own  business  at  any  cost,  or  to  keep  back  a 
too  eloquent  flow  of  opinion.  "  Well !  Well, 
but — "  recollecting,  "you  didn't  answer  my  ques- 
tion. Aren't  you  going  anywhere  this  summer?" 

Elsie  shook  her  head.     "  Don't  think  so." 

"  Well,"  desperately,  "  I  can't  see  what  you  gain 
by  that.  Surely  that 's  all  right  —  to  go  for  a  vaca- 
tion. Bother !  I  wish  Alan  had  never  finished  that 
tunnel ! " 


1 82      IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

"  Why?  "  inquired  Elsie  curiously." 

"  Why,  because  he  was  away  so  much,  of  course, 
and  we  could  do  pretty  much  as  we  liked.  I  knew 
when  he  came  back,  and  you  had  to  begin  that  home- 
life  business  that  Alan  is  so  long  on,  that  there 
would  be  trouble.  You  know,"  pontingly,  "  I  'd 
planned  to  do  so  many  delightful  things  after  Terry 
has  gone  back.  And  I  'm  sure  the  Pennocks,  and 
Clarence  —  and  Willett,  too  —  are  just  waiting  till 
Terry  's  been  in.  They  knew  I  would  n't  go  out  of 
town  until  he  had.  Then  we  'd  all  plan  together. 
And  now  you  '11  go  and  spoil  it  all,  you  horrid  little 

Pig!" 

Elsie  laughed,  and  Addie  smiled,  too,  despite  her 

real  disgust. 

"  Terry  can  only  stay  in  a  few  days,  or,  at  most 
a  week,  he  says,"  went  on  Addie.  "  The  water  's 
so  low  they  can  work  almost  night  and  day.  And  he 
tells  me  to  rest  up,  because  he  's  certainly  going  to 
make  things  hum  while  he  's  here.  So,"  concluded 
she,  with  an  air  of  desperate  determination,  "  I  'm 
going  to  stay  in  every  day  this  week." 

"  And  this  is  only  Friday.  Good  gracious ! " 
commented  Elsie. 

Addie  laughed ;  but  her  busy  mind  flitted  instantly 
to  other  things.  "  You  don't  know  any  more  about 
the  franchise  over  Seventeenth  Street,  do  you?" 

Not  knowing  in  the  least  what  she  was  referring 
to,  Elsie  had  but  one  answer  to  make.  "  No." 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER      183 

"  I  don't  either.  Don't  see  anything  in  the  papers 
about  it  lately.  But  Terry  will  soon  know  all  about 
it  when  he  gets  here.  He  's  always  on  the  inside  of 
everything.  I  was  going  to  say,  I  wish  they  'd  hurry 
up  and  get  it ;  then  perhaps  —  Oh,  but  I  don't  sup- 
pose it  would.  Too  close  in." 

"  Well,  I  suppose  you  know  what  you  're  talking 
about,"  observed  Elsie  resignedly. 

Addie  laughed.  "  I  was  thinking  that  perhaps 
when  they  get  the  franchise  it  '11  keep  Alan  busy 
again." 

"  But  he  is  n't  interfering  with  me,"  declared 
Elsie.  "  Honestly.  He  never  says  a  word  as  to 
where  I  have  or  have  not  been." 

"  I  believe  it.  That 's  easy,"  returned  Addie. 
'  You  've  never  been  anywhere  nowadays." 

Elsie's  lips  opened  to  reply,  but  she  closed  them 
again.  It  was  true  that  she  went  out  very  little,  but 
it  was  also  true  that  this  was  of  her  own  choice.  It 
would,  however,  do  no  good  to  assert  that  It  would 
not  be  credited  for  a  minute.  So  she  did  not  say 
anything. 

Shortly  after  this  Willett  drove  up  and  Addie  her- 
self admitted  him.  He  came  in,  big  and  smiling. 
"  Hello,  Addie."  But  his  eyes  traveled  past  her  in 
^search  of  Elsie. 

He  tossed  his  motor  cap  and  gloves  on  a  chair  near 
the  door  and  then  walked  over  and  kissed  Elsie  on 
the  lips.  When  Addie  poutingly  held  up  her  face, 


i84     IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

he  kissed  her  lightly  on  the  forehead.  "  That 's 
enough  for  little  girls,"  he  said  teasingly. 

He  drew  up  a  chair  close  to  the  two  women  and 
seated  himself  with  an  air  of  distinct  satisfaction. 

"Am  I  in  on  this?"  he  inquired,  indicating  by  a 
wave  of  the  hand  the  evident  close  conclave  of  the 
two. 

"  I  don't  believe  any  one  's  in.  It  seems  to  me 
we  're  all  out,"  said  Addie  discontentedly.  "  Here 
am  I  ready  to  make  all  kinds  of  outing  plans,  only 
to  find  that  Elsie  is  going  to  stay  strictly  '  ter  hum.'  ' 

Elsie  smiled  mischievously,  like  a  naughty  child 
who  is  publicly  denounced  and  does  n't  care. 

"Oh,  well."  Willett  looked  smilingly  undis- 
turbed also.  "  There  's  no  telling  what  may  happen 
before  then." 

Addie  looked  slightly  puzzled,  having  counted  on 
Willett  as  a  strong  ally  in  the  furtherance  of  her 
summer  plans. 

Lottie  came  in  with  luncheon,  which  the  three  ate 
very  informally  and  gaily,  with  what  Addie  called 
the  lunch  counter  between  them.  They  chatted  as 
they  lunched,  or  rather  Addie  and  Renshaw  did, 
while  Elsie  mostly  looked  on  and  laughed  and  lis- 
tened. And  long  after  Lottie  had  taken  away  the 
counter  they  still  sat,  contentedly  talking,  familiar 
and  at  ease. 

Then  the  lively  Addie  was  seized  with  a  new  no- 
tion. She  commanded  Elsie  to  play  while  she  and 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER      185 

Renshaw  practised  a  difficult  step  in  one  of  the  new 
dances.  Elsie  willingly  obeyed,  stumbling  laugh- 
ingly over  the  unfamiliar  music,  but  managing  to 
keep  the  required  swing  and  rhythm  even  if  at  the 
expense  of  the  melody.  After  both  were  tired  they 
sat  down  again,  but  Elsie  kept  on  playing  for  a 
while.  Then  she  was  brushed  gaily  off  the  piano 
bench  by  Addie,  in  order  that  the  latter  might  play 
the  very  latest  and  most  impudent  rag-time  song  for 
Renshaw's  edification. 

Renshaw  drew  Elsie  down  upon  the  seat  beside 
him  and  put  his  arm  round  her.  Enraged  at  the 
beating  of  her  heart,  Elsie  fidgeted  in  his  clasp.  But 
the  arm  that  seemingly  so  lightly  encircled  her  and 
clasped  the  hand  on  her  lap,  was  not  to  be  displaced 
by  so  much  as  an  inch.  The  more  she  fidgeted  the 
closer  he  drew  her,  and  so  finally  she  sat  still. 

Questioned  by  Renshaw  as  to  this  song  and  that, 
Addie  sang  about  half  a  dozen  before  realizing  that 
she  was  being  manipulated.  Then  she  jumped  up. 

"  Well,  if  you  think  I  'm  going  to  keep  on  playing 
while  you  two — "  She  left  one  of  her  artistically 
unfinished  sentences.  "  Now  make  Elsie  sing." 

"  Oo,  no.  My  stuff  sounds  horrid  and  dull  after 
yours,"  protested  Elsie.  "  Besides,  I  ate  too  much." 

"  No,  you  did  n't.  I  watched  you,"  returned 
Addie  peremptorily.  "  Besides,  what  about  me?  " 

"  Well,  you  've  danced  yours  all  down,"  com- 
plained Elsie,  as  Willett  led  her  gravely  up  to  the 


1 86     IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

piano,  seated  her,  and  placed  her  hands  in  position 
on  the  keys.  "  Well,  what  is  it  to  be?  " 

"  Sing  me  the  seaweed  song,"  commanded  Willett. 

Elsie  considered  this  indefinite  description  a  mo- 
ment. Then  she  sang  that  exquisite  morsel,  Bran- 
der's  "A  Sea  Drift." 

As  the  seaweed  swims  the  sea, 
In  the  ruin  after  storm. 

Both  of  her  listeners  sat  very  quiet  and  watched 
her  intently  as  she  sang.  Apparently  she  had  for- 
gotten their  presence.  For  at  least  a  full  moment 
after  she  had  stopped  singing,  the  throb  and  beat  of 
the  music  was  in  their  ears.  Addie  moved  uneasily 
and  cast  off  the  spell. 

"  Latache  is  certainly  doing  wonders  for  your 
voice,"  she  said  calmly.  And  then  to  Renshaw, 
"  I  've  got  to  make  a  quick  pilgrimage  to  town  and 
back.  Will  you  run  me  over?  " 

"  I  will,"  with  mock  condescension. 

"  Thought  you  were  going  to  stay  at  home  all 
this  week,"  interposed  Elsie. 

"  Well,  so  I  am.  You  don't  call  that  going  out, 
do  you?  "  demanded  Addie.  "  I  can't  tell  till  I  see 
it  applied  whether  I  'm  going  to  like  that  spangled 
petticoat  for  the  blue  or  not." 

She  ran  upstairs  to  get  ready.  Renshaw  crossed 
at  once  to  Elsie  and  seated  himself  by  her  on  the 
piano  bench.  He  lifted  her  hands  and  kissed  the 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER      187 

palms  teasingly.  Then,  putting  his  arm  round  her 
shoulder,  he  drew  her  face  to  his,  and  with  his  lips 
against  her  cheek,  called  her  all  the  sweet  and  endear- 
ing names  that  a  man  can  think  of  for  the  woman  he 
loves.  And  again  Elsie  was  disgusted  and  amazed 
at  herself,  at  her  weakness.  It  was  Alan's  love  she 
craved,  Alan's  only.  She  had  divined  and  sensed 
the  depth  and  power  of  his  nature,  she  could  imagine 
nothing  sweeter  than  the  companionship,  as  a  loved 
equal,  of  that  quiet,  contained  man.  She  would  give 
anything  and  everything  just  once  to  see  those  cool, 
contemplative  eyes  rest  on  her  face  with  the  passion 
that  lived  in  Willett's  eyes  as  he  looked  at  her  now. 
Yet  it  seemed  in  some  way  that,  just  because  she 
craved  Alan's  love  so  much,  this  other  love  soothed 
and  comforted  her.  The  touch  of  his  flesh  against 
hers,  the  firm  pressure  of  his  arms,  quieted  the  ache 
that  was  in  her.  Yet  afterward  that  ache  came  back 
intensified,  on  the  principle  of  greater  realization. 

Terry  McKeene  came  home.  The  day  after  he 
arrived  he  called  up  Elsie  —  who  heard  with  much 
apprehension  the  voice  of  a  strange  man  greeting  her 
so  familiarly  —  and  demanded  that  she  forthwith 
come  over  and  visit  him.  Her  guarded  replies  in- 
censed him  somewhat. 

"  Oh,  come  off  the  perch !  "  he  exclaimed  finally. 
"What  the  dickens  do  you  think  you're  doing? 
Don't  you  know  who  this  is  ?  " 

"  I  don't,"   confessed  Elsie  helplessly.     For  the 


1 88     IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

moment  she  had  forgotten  McKeene's  pending 
arrival. 

"  Why  —  Well,  I  wish  you  were  here !  It 's 
Terry,  of  course." 

"  Oh-h,"  vastly  relieved.  "  How  are  you, 
Terry?" 

"  How  are  you,  Terry  ?  "  he  mimicked,  exasper- 
ated. "  I  shall  show  you  how  Terry  is,  young 
woman.  I  'm  going  to  send  the  wagon  over,  and 
Addie  says  come  at  once.  We  're  going  to  have  an 
early  lunch." 

So  Elsie  obediently  entered  the  electric  when  it 
came,  and  went  to  meet  this  new  and  evidently  famil- 
iar friend.  She  found  a  big,  good-looking,  sandy- 
haired,  freckled-faced  man,  jolly  and  impudent,  who 
unceremoniously  grabbed  and  kissed  her. 

"  Now  stand  off  and  let  me  look  at  you,"  he  com- 
manded. "  Addie  says  you  're  a  reformed  woman, 
and  I  want  to  look  at  one.  Don't  know  that  I  've 
ever  seen  such  a  thing  before." 

"  Oh,  Terry !  "  Addie  wrinkled  her  brows  depre- 
catingly.  "  I  did  n't  say  it  that  way ;  I  said  she  was 
trying  to  be  — " 

"  My  goodness !  "  Elsie  laughed.  "  That 's  a  dis- 
tinction with  a  horrible  difference." 

During  luncheon  Terry  instructed  Elsie  to  tell 
Alan  that  he  was  going  to  drop  into  the  office  for  a 
chat,  probably  the  next  day.  Elsie  wanted  both  to 
come  over  to  dinner,  but  Terry  explained  that  in 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER      189 

view  of  his  very  curtailed  leave  of  absence  and  the 
great  amount  to  be  done  in  so  short  a  time,  the  invi- 
tation could  not  be  accepted. 

"  In  other  words,  nothing  so  mild  as  a  mere  invita- 
tion to  dinner  can  be  considered,"  supplemented 
Addie. 

"  Well !  Now  that  is  just  exactly  the  size  of  it," 
agreed  Terry,  refusing  to  be  apologetic.  "  And 
Elsie  knows  how  it  is.  She  has  n't  always  been 
reformed." 

"  Now,  Terry  —  don't  tease,"  admonished  his 
wife. 

Two  days  later  Elsie  went  with  the  McKeenes 
to  the  golf-club  reception.  And  that  was  all  she 
saw  of  the  gay  Terry.  But  after  he  had  gone  back 
to  the  project  Addie  called  Elsie  up  one  morning. 

"  Come  over,"  she  said.  "  I  want  to  talk  to  you." 
And  then  when  Elsie  acquiesced,  "  I  '11  send  the 
electric." 

Cutting  short  the  piano  drill  that  she  had  become 
so  interested  in  and  had  grown  to  like  so  much, 
Elsie  went  over  to  her  friend's  house.  She  found 
Addie  curled  up  on  the  divan,  eating  her  breakfast, 
like  the  dainty  little  sybarite  she  was. 

"  I  'm  late,"  she  observed.  "  But  I  'm  always 
frazzled  for  a  week  after  Terry  's  been  in.  He  goes 
like  a  whirlwind.  Have  a  cup  of  chocolate  with 
me?" 

Elsie  nodded  as  she  accepted  with  a  smile  the  com- 


190 

fortable  upholstered  chair  that  Lottie  pulled  forward 
for  her. 

Addie  chatted  inconsequentially  until  Lottie  had 
finished  waiting  on  them  and  had  withdrawn;  and 
then  began,  between  interesting  slices  of  toast,  to  ap- 
proach the  subject  she  had  in  mind  when  calling 
Elsie  over. 

"  You  know,  Terry  does  n't  think  it 's  the  least 
bit  of  good  telling  you.  He  did  n't  want  me  to. 
Tried  to  make  me  promise  not  to.  But  I  would  n't 
promise.  I  wanted  to  tell.  He  's  very  disgusted 
about  it  —  worked  himself  all  up  over  it.  You 
know,"  with  a  thoughtful  little  smile,  as  if  conveying 
some  curious  fact  in  natural  history,  "  men  are  funny 
things.  Though  Terr}'  does  n't  think  as  Alan  does 
at  all,  still  he  admires  him  awfully.  Says  a  man  of 
Alan's  makeup  could  n't  think  any  other  way  — 
about  what  women  should  be  allowed  to  do,  and  all 
that,  you  know.  He  says  Alan  's  awfully  clever, 
though  —  lots  cleverer  than  he  is.  Says  that  tunnel 
is  one  of  the  finest  pieces  of  work  of  that  kind  done 
in  a  long  while." 

Addie  paused  a  moment,  busy  with  her  thoughts, 
while  Elsie  sat  gazing  at  her,  wondering  whatever  all 
this  preamble  might  lead  to. 

"  And  he,"  Selecting  another  piece  of  toast  and 
presumably  still  referring  to  Terry,  "  thinks  it 's  a 
horrid  shame  that  Alan  should  n't  be  allowed  to  finish 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER      191 

the  thing  entirely  and  get  the  credit  —  having  done 
all  the  hard  work,  you  know.  Of  course,  knowing 
so  many  of  the  boys  connected  with  his  line  of  work, 
Terry  always  gets  on  the  inside  of  everything  and. — 
But  I  should  n't  like  it  known  where  you  got  the  in- 
formation ;  it  might  do  Terry  some  harm  somewhere 
or  other." 

She  looked  up  at  Elsie  and  that  despairing  person 
shook  her  head  hopelessly. 

"  Seeing  you  have  n't  told  me  anything  and  that  I 
have  n't  the  faintest  idea  in  the  world  what  you  are 
driving  at,  I  'm  not  very  likely  to  disclose  it." 

Ignoring  this  reflection  on  her  lucidity,  Addie  nib- 
bled her  toast  for  a  moment  in  thoughtful  silence. 
Then  she  stated  in  as  matter-of-fact  a  tone  as  she 
could  manage,  "  Terry  heard  that  Alan  is  likely  to 
lose  his  position  with  the  L.  S.  and  E." 

Elsie's  eyes  opened  wide.  What  new  difficulties 
did  that  mean  ? 

"  Why?  "  she  asked  then,  almost  in  a  whisper. 

"  Well,  you  see,  the  L.  S.  and  E.  is  going  to  use 
the  South  Bank  people's  terminals." 

Elsie  nodded,  though  she  could  not  see  what  that 
had  to  do  with  Alan's  position. 

"  And  you  know  the  L.  S.  and  E.  is  coming  in 
down  Seventeenth  Street,  and  has  to  electrify 
through  the  city,"  went  on  Addie.  "  And  the  South 
Bank  people  are  going  to  have  a  man  of  their  own 


192      IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

choice  finish  bringing  the  line  in  to  the  terminals. 
Or  something  like  that.  Probably  won't  sound  any- 
thing like  that,  when  they  — " 

"  Well,  but  — "  began  Elsie,  her  brows  wrinkling 
in  her  endeavor  to  grasp  the  situation.  "  I  don't 
see  —  I  should  think  a  road  could  keep  its  own  — 
what  do  you  call  it  ?  —  constructing  engineer,  even  if 
it  did  use  some  other  company's  terminals.  They 
pay  for  the  use  of  the  terminals,  don't  they?  They 
must.  Don't  they  often  do  that  —  I  mean  one  line 
use  another's  entry  into  a  town,  and  their  yards,  and 
all  that?" 

"  Oh,  of  course,  often,"  replied  Addie.  "  They 
often  arrange  to  run  over  one  another's  lines  alto- 
gether." 

"  And  do  they  always  combine  forces  and  have 
just  one  man  to  —  to — "  Elsie  did  not  exactly 
know  what. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  think  so,"  scornfully.  "  I  think  they 
keep  their  own  men  throughout.  Oh,  if  you  were  to 
put  this  thing  into  so  many  plain  words,  it  would 
look  —  well,  what  it  is.  But  it  '11  never  be  put  into 
so  many  words.  It  '11  just  be  done." 

"  But  — '  Elsie  was  still  entirely  unenlightened. 
She  saw  there  was  something  behind  this  matter  and 
that  Addie  understood  it  and  expected  her  to.  But 
she  did  not.  "  I  suppose  I  'm  awfully  dense,  but  I 
don't  see  the  point  at  all.  Has  some  one  —  has  Alan 
—  an  enemy  on  the  road,  then  ?  —  or  what  ?  " 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER      193 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  about  an  enemy  exactly," 
Addie  laughed,  and  glanced,  quizzically  at  her  com- 
panion. "  But  there  is  some  one  who  has,  I  suppose, 
decided  that  it  would  be  more  convenient  to  have  him 
out  of  town  nine  or  ten  months  of  the  year." 

Elsie's  eyes  were  still  wide.  "  Would  that  drive 
him  out  of  town  ?  " 

"  Why,  of  course  it  would!  "  Addie  looked  almost 
incredulous  at  so  much  stupidity.  "  Positions  like 
Alan's  don't  grow  on  the  hedges.  He  'd  probably 
have  to  go  far  afield  to  find  another  —  of  any  im- 
portance, you  know.  Look  at  Terry.  Has  he  ever 
been  able  to  stay  —  to  live  —  at  home  ?  " 

Elsie's  wide,  puzzled  eyes  never  left  Addie's  face. 
"  Well,  but  —  who  —  ?  "  she  began. 

"Well,  who  —  who?"  mimicked  Addie.  "You 
little  owl !  Who  is  it  that  owns  so  many  South 
Bank  shares,  and  who,  if  he  were  offended,  could  pull 
strings  on  half  the  councilmen  and  prevent  the  L.  S. 
and  E.  from  getting  its  franchise  down  Seventeenth 
Street?" 

The  fact  that  she  was  confidently  expected  to  know 
gave  Elsie  the  needed  clue.  "  You  mean  —  Wil- 
lett?  "  she  asked. 

"  You  are  a  great  guesser!  "  Addie  commended. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

ELSIE  sat  still  a  moment,  a  slow,  red  flush  of 
anger  creeping  over  face  and  neck.  Her  heart 
swelled  with  pity  for  the  man  in  danger  of  so  much 
humiliation  and  wrong.  "  Well,"  she  said  then,  and 
her  words  sounded  hard  and  short.  "  I  should  n't 
have  thought  Willett  would  stoop  to  anything  like 
that." 

"  Stoop?  He  won't  have  to  stoop.  He  won't 
appear  in  the  matter  at  all,"  returned  Addie.  "  I 
suppose  he  's  just  dropped  a  hint  to  Reynolds,  or 
some  other  of  his  henchmen ;  and  it  '11  all  be  done  so 
quietly  that  few  will  know  it 's  done  at  all.  No  one 
will  know  why.  Oh!"  Addie  gave  a  little  cynical 
laugh,  "  that 's  nothing.  Those  things  are  done 
every  day  in  politics  and  corporations,  and  so  forth, 
especially  if  you  get  in  the  way  of  the  Higher-Ups." 

"  Well,"  Elsie  spoke  slowly;  "  if  so,  if  it 's  done, 
I  hope  I  '11  never  have  to  speak  to  Willett  again." 

"  And  what  reason  would  you  give  for  such  a  line 
of  conduct  as  that?  "  inquired  Addie,  almost  coldly 
it  seemed. 

"  I  would  n't  give  any."  And  then  she  added 
quickly.  "  Oh,  I  would  n't  betray  the  fact  that  I 
had  any  inside  information,  either." 

194 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER      195 

Addie  placed  her  chocolate-cup  on  her  plate,  and 
laid  both  on  a  near-by  table.  Then  she  leaned  a  little 
forward  and  rested  her  elbows  on  her  knees. 
"  Apart  from  that,''  she  said,  referring  to  the  assur- 
ance just  given,  "  have  you  ever  stopped  to  consider 
how  entirely  and  beautifully  unreasonable  you  are?  " 
She  smiled  engagingly  as  she  spoke  and  the  smile 
robbed  the  words  of  asperity.  Still  from  behind 
that  smile  peeped  out  that  sane  and  steadying  grasp 
of  the  fundamentals  of  a  case  which  Willett  Ren- 
shaw  had  once  referred  to  as  her  good  common 
sense.  "Of  course  I  don't  exactly  know  what  you 
and  Willett  have  understood  as  regards  each  other, 
or  —  but  I  infer  that  you  have  n't  precisely  led  him 
to  suppose  that  your  marital  relations  were  one  long 
dream  of  bliss."  She  looked  at  Elsie  with  gay, 
quizzical  eyes. 

Elsie  smiled  —  slightly  amused,  too ;  only  her 
amusement  was  of  very  different  caliber  from 
Addie's.  "  No,  I  suppose  not." 

"  He  knows/'  went  on  Addie,  "  you  've  told  him, 
as  you  Ve  told  me,  that  you  're  just  living  with  Alan 
on  sufferance,  as  it  were.  You  can  hardly  expect 
Willett  to  suppose  that,  in  managing  to  deprive  you 
of  Alan's  company,  he  is  depriving  you  of  anything 
you  value;  or  that  in  depriving  Alan  of  the  oppor- 
tunity to  live  in  constant  enjoyment  of  your  presence, 
he  is  depriving  him  of  anything  very  valuable  in  his 
scheme  of  things,  either." 


196      IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

"  Only  the  honor  of  name  and  family,"  ventured 
Elsie. 

"  Both  of  which  have  always  been  in  your  hands 
alone,"  returned  Addie;  "never  in  either  Alan's  or 
Willett's." 

Not  replying  for  the  moment,  yet  not  feeling  the 
least  resentment,  Elsie  looked  curiously  at  Addie. 
Short  as  had  really  been  her  acquaintanceship  with 
this  woman,  she  had  formed  a  sufficiently  clear  men- 
tal estimate  of  her  to  be  astonished  now  at  the  cool, 
mature  mind  that  rested  behind  the  frivolous,  pleas- 
ure-loving daily  life.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  departing 
from  her  usual  happy-go-lucky  policy,  Addie  had 
set  herself  to  present  to  her  friend  what  she  con- 
ceived to  be  the  truth  shorn  of  all  sentiment  concern- 
ing the  new  stand  she  was  taking. 

To  whatever  class  an  individual  may  belong,  good 
or  bad,  grave  or  gay,  there  is  in  the  accepted  condi- 
tions and  conduct  of  that  class  a  certain  code  of 
honor,  a  straight  line  which,  conformed  to  or  not,  is 
certainly  existent,  and  by  which  each  member  of  that 
class  is  judged.  According  to  the  voice  of  Addie's 
instincts  now,  Elsie  was  guilty  of  a  sort  of  breach  of 
faith,  or  of  etiquette.  At  first,  setting  down  the 
radical  change  in  her  friend  to  either  the  shock  of  the 
accident,  or  possibly  Alan  Leland's  ultimatum  con- 
cerning it,  Addie  had  condoned  Elsie's  strange  con- 
duct with  some  sympathy  and  more  amusement. 
But  now  that  it  bid  fair  to  become  a  permanent  state, 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER      197 

Addie  considered  it  seriously  according  to  her  par- 
ticular ways  of  judging.  She  felt  that  Elsie  was  act- 
ing very  selfishly,  to  say  the  least  of  it,  coolly  upset- 
ting, without  the  courtesy  of  explanation,  reason  or 
logic,  and  entirely  without  regard  to  the  feelings  of 
others,  a  state  of  affairs  which  she  herself  had  been 
mainly  instrumental  in  building  up.  She  considered 
Alan's  probable  fate  as  purely  and  simply  a  result  of 
Elsie's  erratic  conduct;  and  for  this  reason  she  had 
overruled  her  husband's  greater  discretion,  and  had 
insisted  on  telling  Elsie  of  the  matter.  Moreover, 
faithful  as  Addie  was  in  the  main  to  her  long  friend- 
ship, disinterested  and  uninfluenced  by  the  opinions 
of  others,  she  was  yet  woman  enough  to  decide  that 
Elsie  should  not  mentally  take  her  martyr's  stand  in 
unalloyed  comfort  and  sanctity. 

Seeing  that  she  knew  only  a  part  of  what  Addie 
judged  as  a  whole,  Elsie  was  not  able  to  guess  at  the 
other's  line  of  reasoning.  That  something  had  been 
reasoned  out,  and  not  altogether  creditably  to  herself, 
she  plainly  perceived.  But  she  was  not  even  faintly 
resentful.  Not  knowing  the  truth  of  the  case,  her 
friend  could  not  be  expected  to  render  a  just  judg- 
ment. When  she  spoke  it  was  quite  gently. 

"  Yes,  I  know  I  'm  the  one  that 's  mostly  to 
blame." 

"  Oh,  well,  I  don't  know  about  that,"  said 
Addie,  hastening  to  be  strictly  just  in  the  face  of  such 
unexpected  meekness,  "  You  're  the  cause  of  it  all, 


198     .IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

of  course.  But  what  I  mean  just  now,  kidlets,  is 
this :  You  're  not  playing  fair.  There  are  always 
two  sides  to  every  case  and  we  have  to  consider 
the  other  fellow's  side  a  little  bit,  too.  We  can't  just 
decide  what  we  want  in  the  matter  and  then  feel 
that 's  all  there  is.  It  never  works.  Just  now 
you  're  not  being  fair  to  Willett  —  or  to  any  one. 
If,  for  any  reason  or  other,  you  have  decided  to  have 
done  with  him,  tell  him  so  and  be  through  with  it. 
You're  just  dilly-dallying;  just  being  sweet  enough 
to  him  to  keep  him  —  well,  as  he  is.  And  then 
you  're  very  indignant  if  he  decides  to  act  in  a  more 
clear-cut  and  businesslike  manner  than  you  are." 
Addie  laughed  indulgently  as  she  ended.  Her  words 
were  so  straightforward  as  to  be  almost  harsh,  and 
harshness  was  entirely  foreign  to  her  nature. 

"  I  'm  afraid  —  to  offend  him ;  actually  to  an- 
tagonize him,"  said  Elsie  in  self-defense  and  without 
stopping  for  a  moment  to  consider  how  it  might 
sound. 

Addie  did  look  faintly  surprised.  Coming  from 
Elsie  the  words  sounded  foreign.  "  Well,  I  don't 
think  you  need  to  be,''  she  said,  almost  amused.  "  I 
don't  believe  he  'd  hurt  you  —  or  try  to." 

Elsie  smiled  ruefully.  She  saw  she  was  only  mak- 
ing things  —  and  impressions  —  worse.  She  leaned 
forward,  and  touched  Addie  lightly  and  affection- 
ately on  the  knee. 

"  Addie,  I  don't  blame  you  at  all  for  thinking  - 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER      199 

as  you  do.  You  could  n't  very  well  think  anything 
else,  only  knowing  as  much  as  you  do.  Some 
day  — "  she  smiled  sadly.  "  You  've  been  such  a 
good  friend  —  I  know  you  have.  You  've  stuck  to 
me  through  thick  and  thin,  through  good  repute  and 
bad.  And  some  day  —  it  may  be  a  long  way  off, 
but  some  day  I  'm  going  to  tell  you  everything.  I 
—  can't  now." 

Addie  gazed  at  her,  quite  evidently  taken  com- 
pletely beyond  any  calculation  she  might  have  made 
as  to  the  probable  turn  of  events.  "  Well,"  she  said 
then ;  "  I  've  thought  all  along  that  there  was  some- 
thing— "  She  leaned  back  on  the  divan  again,  with 
an  air  of  ceasing  to  consider  any  further  a  hopeless 
proposition.  "  Anyway,  I  'm  glad  you  know."  She 
concluded,  almost  to  herself,  "  I  should  n't  have 
been  content  if  you  had  n't.  Forewarned  is  fore- 
armed." 

Elsie  smiled,  a  faint,  grave  little  smile.  And  then 
she  sat,  chin  buried  in  hand,  and  tried  to  think  a  way 
out  of  this  new  tangle.  Of  the  probable  financial 
loss  and  discomfort  entailed  by  Alan's  dismissal  from 
his  post,  she  did  not  think  for  a  minute ;  only  of  the 
man  himself  —  of  the  injustice,  the  hurt.  And  yet 
she  was  glad  to  realize  that  there  was  that  in  him 
which  lifted  him  above  the  power  of  men  to  hu- 
miliate. They  could  do  him  an  injustice,  could  per- 
haps ruin  him;  but  Alan  was  of  those  men  who  can 
not  be  humiliated. 


200     IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  she  said  presently,  looking  up 
from  a  brown  study,  "  that  there  ought  to  be  some- 
thing I  could  do.  Can't  you  suggest  anything, 
Addie?  Some  way  that  I  could  head  Willett  off, 
persuade  him  or  —  anything?  " 

"Oh!  anything!"  Addie  laughed.  "That's  a 
big  order.  But  I  'm  afraid  it 's  too  late.  It 's  an 
accomplished  fact  —  or  as  good  as  —  or  it  would  n't 
be  known.  Besides,  how  are  you  going  to  connect 
Willett  with  the  affair  ?  We  know  who  is  at  the  bot- 
tom of  it,  of  course ;  but  no  one  else  does.  And  if  it 
ever  came  to  a  discussion,  even  we  should  have  to 
call  it  a  mere  surmise." 

"  Are  n't  there  —  would  n't  you  think  the  officials 
of  the  company  would  object  to  a  thing  like  this?  " 
wondered  Elsie.  "  They  must  know  that  Alan  is  an 
efficient  man." 

"  They  do,  of  course.  But  few  will  get  what  has 
really  happened.  One  or  two  will  grasp  the  fact  that 
there  is  a  personal  element  in  the  matter  somewhere 
—  either  a  pull  for  the  other  man  or  a  push  for  Alan. 
They  're  used  to  that  sort  of  thing.  Besides,  even 
if  they  knew  all,  they  could  n't  offend  Willett.  He 
does  n't  own  half  the  road,  and  a  lot  of  the  city,  for 
nothing." 

"  Humph,  he  did  n't  earn  it,"  observed  Elsie, 
scornfully.  She  did  not  actually  know  whether  he 
had  or  not,  but  she  thought  not  and  voiced  her  con- 
victions without  considering. 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER      201 

"  No,  his  father  did  that,"  agreed  Addie.  "  But 
Willett  's  no  man's  fool,  though.  He  's  a  strong 
man  on  his  own  account.  Don't  you  think  so  ?  He 
has  a  good  time  and  lives  every  minute  of  his  life, 
but  he  does  n't  forget  to  keep  a  firm  hold  on  men  and 
affairs,  nevertheless.  And  he  has  a  way  all  his  own 
of  managing  things,  as  you  know.  That 's  why  in 
this  case  —  between  you  two,"  she  laughed,  "  I  've 
been  confidently  expecting  something  to  develop  sud- 
denly somewhere.  I  knew  he  was  taking  it  all  too 
quietly." 

Elsie  nodded.  And  if  she  had  known  the  man 
better,  she,  too,  would  have  been  able  to  judge  that 
the  calm  was  more  threatening  than  any  storm.  All 
her  refusals,  and  they  had  been  many,  to  meet  him 
alone  anywhere  or  on  any  pretext  had  been  taken 
good-naturedly,  generally  with  a  laugh  and  a  kiss. 
In  return  for  what  she  fondly  thought  to  be  con- 
sideration for  her  changed  ideas,  she  had  met  him 
at  Addie's,  or  at  gatherings  that  she  could  attend  with 
Addie,  and  where  it  was  known  he  would  be  present. 
In  this  way  she  had  thought  to  reduce  by  gentle  and 
artistic  degrees  an  obnoxious  state  of  affairs  to 
something  like  the  normal  and  right.  Yet  after  all 
her  imagined  cleverness,  all  she  had  really  succeeded 
in  doing  was  to  deepen  instead  of  lessen  an  already 
existing  wrong. 

"  It 's  funny,"  she  observed  after  a  few  minutes' 
silence.  "  They  say  right  will  prevail,  but  — " 


202     IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

"Yes,"  Addie  laughed.  "They  also  say  that 
might  is  right." 

"  But  that  is  often  quoted  the  other  way  about, 
making  '  right  is  might,'  "  said  Elsie. 

"  Humph !  Well  ?  "  Addie's  short  laugh  was  a 
whole  volume  of  comment. 

"  It  is,  in  the  end;  must  be,  surely,"  insisted  El- 
sie; "else  by  this  time  there  would  be  no  worlds 
left." 

Addie  looked  unusually  amused.  "  Dear  me !  I 
don't  imagine  the  actions  of  us  midgets,  good  or 
bad,  very  seriously  interfere  with  the  march  of  the 
spheres." 

Elsie  did  not  press  the  matter  further.  Her 
ideas  were  getting  clearer  day  by  day  —  that  is,  she 
could  grasp  and  hold  them  longer  —  but  she  did  not 
as  yet  court  an  argument  with  any  mind  at  all  keen 
that  was  set  in  an  estate  of  its  own  making.  In- 
stead, she  reverted  once  more  to  the  main  discus- 
sion. 

"  How  soon  do  you  suppose  Alan  will  know  of 
—  of  this?  "  she  queried. 

"  Oh,  I  suppose  —  pretty  soon."  Addie  frowned. 
"  Terry  thought  they  'd  probably  offer  him  a  month's 
salary  instead  of  notice.  They  would  n't  want  him 
to  have  a  chance  to  talk  it  over  much  at  the  office. 
Terry  thought  there  might  be  a  slight  chance;  but 
they  '11  arrange  all  that.  Terry  did  n't  think  Cal- 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER      203 

thorpe,  the  president,  would  like  it  at  all  if  he  under- 
stood —  you  know,  much  about  it.  But  those  who 
work  with  him  will  know  him,  and  they  '11  see  that 
he  does  n't  get  the  straight  of  it." 

In  Elsie's  mind  rose  the  image  of  the  employer 
who  had  stayed  late  at  the  office  and  was  driving 
his  secretary  home  on  that  fateful  evening  which 
began  the  mystery.  The  memory  of  Mr.  Calthorpe's 
face  was  vivid  enough,  but  when  she  sought  to  go 
further  than  that,  to  bring  back  some  memory  of 
the  personality  associated  with  that  face,  she  failed 
utterly,  as  she  had  failed  to  restore  any  of  the  de- 
tails of  the  office  and  the  Hamby  home.  Striving 
to  supply  the  lack,  Elsie  felt  herself  drifting  out 
again  upon  that  shadowy  ocean  from  which  she 
kept  herself  only  by  concentrating  upon  the  daily 
facts  of  Elsie  Leland's  life. 

She  looked  a  little  wistfully  at  her  friend,  Mrs. 
McKeene. 

"  Is  Mr.  Calthorpe  a  nice  man  ?  "  she  queried. 

"Well,  you've  seen  him,"  said  Addie;  "must 
have,  many  a  time." 

"Oh,  well  —  seeing!"  a  trifle  impatiently. 
"What  is  he  like  in  his  life?  I  wonder.  That's 
what  counts.  I  thought  perhaps  Terry  might  have 
said." 

"  He  said  he  was  rather  a  peculiar  man,  but  very 
straight,"  recollected  Addie. 


204     IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

Elsie  nodded,  and  then  sat  quiet,  trying  to  think, 
to  discuss  with  herself  what  this  change  meant,  what 
it  might  bring  about.  It  might  mean  —  if  Alan  ob- 
tained a  position  somewhere  at  a  distance,  and  they 
sold  or  rented  the  home  —  getting  away  from  all 
that  knew  them,  or  of  them.  Oh,  she  would  be 
glad !  In  that  way  it  might  be  a  blessing  in  dis- 
guise. Only,  Alan  would  be  so  hurt,  in  the  hardest 
way  a  man  can  be  hurt.  He  had  loved  his  work  — 
she  was  sure  of  that  —  and  he  had  worked  hard 
and  faithfully.  Now  it  was  all  to  seem  of  no  par- 
ticular worth  or  value  in  the  eyes  of  men.  That  was 
what  grieved  Elsie  in  this  matter;  really,  all  that 
did  grieve  her. 

"  There  is  n't  actually  anything  to  worry  about," 
observed  Addie,  breaking  in  on  her  thoughts. 
"  Alan  won't  be  any  time  at  all  getting  some  other 
position.  I  'm  sure  of  that.  And  there  's  no  use 
talking,  Elsie;  it'll  be  lots  more  comfortable  for 
both  of  you  if  Alan  is  away  a  good  deal  of  the  time. 
You  know  you  can't  go  on  like  this.  I  don't  know 
—  it 's  the  funniest  thing."  She  shook  her  head 
with  an  air  of  hopeless  puzzling.  "  You  're  simply 
not  the  same  person  at  all  since  that  foolish  acci- 
dent. Your  looks  and  your  voice  are  the  same,  of 
course,  but  —  oh,  and  sometimes  I  even  think  your 
looks  are  changing,"  plaintively.  "  You  seem  to 
fill  out  your  gowns  as  well  as  ever,  but  —  you  're  get- 
ting a  sort  of  worn-to-an-edge,  transparent  look." 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER     205 

"  Oh,  dear  me !  I  hope  to  goodness  I  don't  get 
transparent,"  exclaimed  Elsie,  hastening  to  change 
so  uncomfortable  a  train  of  thought.  "  I  'm  sure  I 
don't  know  where  I  should  end  up  in  that  case." 


CHAPTER  XX 

IT  seemed  to  Elsie,  as  she  sat  at  dinner  that  night, 
that  Alan  was  particularly  pleasant  to  her.  Or 
it  might  be  that  the  reproachful  spirit  in  her  made 
her  unusually  sensitive.  He  had  never  shown  the 
least  disposition  to  sulk  or  to  snub  her;  but  of  late 
their  conversations  had  grown  more  lengthy  and  — 
to  Elsie,  at  least  —  more  and  more  interesting  and 
enjoyable.  Two  reasons  contributed  to  this  re- 
sult —  Elsie's  gradually  increasing  confidence  and 
power  to  express  herself,  and  Alan's  observance  and 
appreciation  of  the  stand  she  was  making  in  the  way 
of  improving  conditions  in  the  home.  Of  her  at- 
tempts at  improvements  along  other  lines  he  could 
not  judge,  although  the  fact  that  she  was  almost 
invariably  at  home  for  dinner  and  in  the  evenings 
gave  indications.  Of  home  changes,  however,  he 
had  plain  proofs,  if  only  in  the  greatly  reduced  ex- 
pense sheet.  He  saw  that  in  Ada  she  had  less  effi- 
cient help  and  that  she  cheerfully  made  up  with  her 
own  labors  what  Ada  fell  short  of  accomplishing. 

"  She  does  n't  do  as  well  as  Annie,  does  she?  "  he 
inquired  one  day. 

"  She  does  n't  do  as  much,  of  course,"   replied 
206 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER      207 

Elsie.  "  That  was  n't  to  be  expected.  She  does  n't 
demand  the  same  wages.  But  she  's  amiable  and 
obliging.  And  what  she  can't  do,  I  can." 

And  she  did.  In  place  of  the  helpless  woman  de- 
pendent on  Annie  there  appeared  one  who  very 
plainly  stood  at  the  helm  of  things.  Of  the  motive 
that  was  actuating  her,  of  the  reason  for  the  tre- 
mendous change  in  her  —  a  greater  change  than 
Alan  would  have  thought  possible  for  any  human 
being,  let  alone  an  emotional  woman,  to  make  in  so 
short  a  time  —  he  did  not  attempt  to  guess.  He 
would  not  even  speculate.  It  may  be  that  he  was 
somewhat  ungenerous,  or  that  many  and  repeated 
disappointments  had  rendered  him  cynical  and  unbe- 
lieving; but  he  never  for  a  moment  supposed  that 
she  was  pursuing  this  good  course  for  the  sake  of 
its  good.  She  had  a  motive,  which  time  would  un- 
doubtedly disclose.  Meanwhile,  he  did  admire  the 
strong  and  consistent  effort  she  had  been  able  to 
make.  That  alone  had  been  a  pleasant  revelation. 
There  was  hope  for  anything  but  weakness. 

To-night,  as  they  sat  at  dinner,  the  evening  breeze 
coming  in  sweet  breaths  through  the  wide-open  win- 
dows, the  setting  sun  flooding  the  walls  with  mel- 
lowing, golden  light,  it  came  over  Elsie  what  a 
pleasant,  peaceful  home  this  was.  How  happy  they 
might  have  been  if  —  oh,  if  —  if  what? 

Old  man  Lee,  the  gardener,  was  scuffling  round, 
gathering  up  his  gardening  tools,  and  Elsie  surveyed 


208     IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

him  also  with  reflective  eyes.  "  Lee  's  a  very  good 
gardener  — "  she  observed. 

"Yes.  But  what  is  the  reservation?"  inquired 
Alan,  quick  to  catch  the  trailing,  unfinished  sound  of 
the  sentence. 

"  Nothing,  as  regards  that  statement,"  smiling. 
"  But  I  'm  a  trifle  disappointed  in  him  for  one 
reason." 

"Yes?" 

"  Yes.  He  refused  to  contribute  to  an  ideal  of 
mine.  I  asked  him  if  he  loved  flowers,  and  he  said 
he  liked  to  see  them  come  up  good  and  strong  — 
yes.  I  told  him  he  ought  to  love  them,  because  it 
was  his  faith  in  them,  when  he  put  the  seeds  in 
the  ground,  that  made  them  come  up.  And  he  said 
that  was  queer.  Because  very  often  they  did  n't 
come  up,  and  then  again  very  often  they  were  not 
what  he  expected  at  all." 

Alan  laughed.  "  Very  inconsiderate  of  him,  I  'm 
sure." 

"Isn't  it?  And  he's  harsh  and  sinister  in  his 
handling  of  things,  somehow.  At  least  he  gives  that 
impression.  I  wonder  how  it  is,"  reflectively,  "  that 
cripples  are  so  often  bitter.  Is  it  because  the  spirit 
can't  express  through  the  faulty,  half -conditioned 
body,  or  —  You  know,  some  believe  the  spirit  shapes 
the  body.  I  mean  that  the  body  is  a  sort  of  ma- 
terialized shadow  of  the  real  individual.  But  there 
could  n't  be  crooked  spirits,  could  there  ?  " 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER)     209 

Alan  shook  his  head  smilingly.  "  I  'm  afraid  I  'm 
not  enough  of  a  metaphysician  —  But  —  no,  I 
should  n't  think  there  'd  be  either  crooked  or  straight 
with  spirit.  One  can't  associate  the  idea  of  line  or 
measurement,  or  anything  to  do  with  dimension, 
with  spirit.  I  have  n't  thought  the  matter  over 
much,  though  I  have  often  looked  at  cripples  and 
wondered.  I  believe  I  've  always  had  a  sort  of 
idea  that  a  spirit  imprisoned  in  an  ill-conditioned 
body  has  some  penance  to  perform  or  lesson  to  work 
out  But  "-  -  he  glanced  at  her  in  mingled  curiosity 
and  amusement — "when  did  you  dive  into  meta- 
physics ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  have  n't,"  disavowed  Elsie.  "  If  I  did  I  'd 
never  come  up  again.  But  these  things  present 
themselves  and  one  has  to  wonder." 

After  they  had  risen  from  the  table  Alan  went 
into  the  morning-room  and  stood  in  the  French 
window  to  smoke  his  after-dinner  cigar,  as  was  his 
habit.  Elsie  stayed  in  the  dining-room  and  gave 
her  flowers  fresh  water ;  and  as  she  did  so  the  brood- 
ing, troubled  thought  came  back  into  her  face. 
Alan's  magnetism  was  strong  upon  her,  and  so  sooth- 
ing and  satisfying  was  it  to  her  that  in  his  pres- 
ence she  forgot  her  troubles.  Now  they  came  troop- 
ing back.  This  pleasant  camaraderie  that  was  grow- 
ing up  between  them  would  soon  be  stopped.  She 
wondered  if  Alan  would  ever  discover  the  agency 
working  against  him.  It  seemed  to  Elsie  as  she 


210      IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

moved  restlessly  about  that  she  simply  must  do  some- 
thing. She  could  not  see  upon  reflection  what  good 
Addie  thought  to  accomplish  by  telling  her,  if  she 
were  not  to  be  allowed  to  use  the  information ;  or, 
at  all  events,  not  in  the  most  important  quarters.  I  f 
she  could  not  go  to  Willett,  whom  could  she  go  to, 
unless  it  might  be  the  president?  Elsie  did  not  see 
how  she  could  very  well  go  to  him.  Yet  it  would  be 
a  very  great  satisfaction  to  know  that  the  men  for 
whom,  and  with  whom,  Alan  had  worked  under- 
stood the  cause  of  his  elimination  from  the  service. 
That  alone  would  rob  the  thing  of  nearly  all  its 
sting. 

So  fretted  and  tired  did  Elsie  become  from  the 
fretting  and  yeasting  of  her  mind  that,  forgetting 
for  once  Alan's  presence  somewhere  in  the  domain, 
she  sat  down  at  the  piano.  She  played  a  fairly 
easy  but  soothing,  winding  Bach  prelude ;  and  then 
sang  the  plaintive  "  Waters  of  Minnetonka."  As 
she  finished  the  last,  grateful  for  the  peace  that  the 
music  brought  her,  Alan  came  into  the  room  and 
seated  himself  comfortably  in  the  window-seat,  near 
the  archway  at  the  far  end  of  the  room. 

"  Go  on,"  he  commanded,  leaning  his  head  back, 
and  looking  across  at  her  curiously.  "  Your  voice 
is  broadening  out  considerably  lately.  You  Ve  been 
doing  a  lot  of  practising,  have  n't  you?  " 

Elsie  nodded  absently.     "  Yes." 

"  I  notice  a  change  in  the  music  on  your  piano," 


IX  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER      211 

went  on  Alan.  "  You  're  not  singing  so  much  of 
that  light,  trashy  stuff  as  you  used  to." 

"  Oh !  one  always  has  to  be  able  to  sing  that." 
said  Elsie  non-committally.  "  It 's  what  you  are 
always  asked  for  and  what  always  takes.  But  I 
never  liked  it  for  myself.  This  is  what  I  always 
play  by  choice." 

Alan  looked  incredulous.  "  Well,  you  certainly 
never  divulged  your  real  tastes  before,  then." 

"  Divulged,"  Elsie  smiled,  playing  in  a  lazy  way 
portions  of  the  accompaniment  before  her.  "  That 
sounds  so  funny.  I  don't  know  that  you  ever  tried 
to  discover  my  tastes  in  this  or  any  other  direction, 
did  you?  " 

This  was  a  silly  thing  to  say  —  especially  to  the 
man  before  her,  who  saw  most  things  —  and  Elsie 
knew  it.  But  she  was  in  the  mood  to  say  biting 
things,  even  if  at  the  same  time  they  had  to  be 
silly. 

Alan  smiled  in  reminiscent  amusement.  "  I  don't 
suppose  I  did  do  any  Sherlock  Holmes  business  in 
that  line.  When  two  people  live  together  their  in- 
dividual tastes  become  apparent  to  each  other,  I 
should  suppose." 

"  Yes?  "  Elsie's  tone  was  politely  unimpressed. 

"  Yes.     Don't  you  think  so?  " 

"  No." 

"Xo?"  Alan  laughed.  "Why,  you  know  my 
tastes  in  most  things,  don't  you  ?  " 


212     IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

"  I  know  most  of  your  favorite  dishes,"  said  Elsie, 
with  an  air  of  careful  thought.  "  I  know  by  obser- 
vation your  favorite  color  in  ties  and  your  favorite 
mode  of  dress.  I  know  by  looking  in  the  bookcase 
what  books  you  choose  to  read."  She  considered  a 
moment  longer.  "  I  really  think  that 's  about  all. 
And  you  don't  even  know  that  much  about  me." 

Alan  threw  his  head  back  on  the  upholstered  win- 
dow-seat and  laughed.  "  Well,  what  amazingly 
contained  and  concealed  beings  we  must  have  been! 
But  how  about  it  ?  Why  is  this  scant  fund  of  knowl- 
edge confined  to  you?  Can  I  not  at  least  know  as 
much  about  you  as  you  do  about  me?  Can  I  not 
also  look  in  the  bookcase  to  see  what  books  you 
read?" 

"  Yes.  But  the  result  would  n't  be  so  final,"  an- 
swered Elsie,  unconcernedly.  "  A  woman's  life 
is  n't  divided  up  into  so  many  portions  and  pigeon- 
holed, like  a  man's.  She  takes  from  anything  she 
comes  in  contact  with.  For  instance,  I  read  as  much 
out  of  your  bookcase  as  out  of  mine  —  more." 

Alan  was  still  smiling.  "  How  long  have  you 
been  doing  that?  " 

"  As  long  as  I  've  been  here." 

"  The  dickens  you  have !  "  scoffed  Alan  good-na- 
turedly. "  Do  you  forget  how  many,  many  times 
you  've  told  me  that  you  did  n't  see  how  I  could  read 
the  stuff  I  did  —  that  it  was  converting  me  from  a 
man  into  an  icicle?  " 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER      213 

Elsie  smiled,  taking  due  note  of  this  glimpse  into 
past  relationships.  "  I  may  have.  But  I  read  them, 
just  the  same.  I  don't  mind  confessing  that  at  first 
it  was  just  words  I  read  —  dry  and  meaningless  to 
me ;  that  it  was  hard  work,  and  that  I  had  to  make 
myself  read.  But  I  knew  that  in  time,  if  I  per- 
sisted, the  spirit  behind  the  words  would  stand  forth, 
or  that  I  'd  get  behind  the  words  to  it  —  whichever 
way  you  like  to  put  it." 

Alan  stared  across  at  her.  So  long  and  entirely 
puzzled  and  incredulous  was  his  stare  that  presently 
Elsie  took  official  note. 

"Of  course  I  don't  like  to  be  rude.  But  really, 
if  you  stare  much  longer,  I  shall  have  to  laugh  right 
out  in  meeting." 

Alan  laughed,  himself.  "  Well,  I  couldn't  decide 
whether  or  not  you  were  —  to  use  a  slang  but  very 
expressive  phrase  —  putting  one  over  on  me.  You 
know  it  would  n't  be  the  first  time.  There  's  no 
mistaking  your  gift  of  mimicry." 

"  I  don't  feel  the  least  bit  of  a  gift  that  way,"  de- 
clared Elsie,  truthfully  enough. 

"  No,  it 's  spontaneous,"  said  Alan. 

Being  unable  to  guess  what  experiences  along  this 
line  her  predecessor  had  treated  him  to,  Elsie  was 
silent.  But  she  sighed,  a  little,  weary,  discontented 
sigh.  Would  she  ever  be  able  to  emerge  chrysalis- 
like,  from  the  shell  of  that  other  woman's  person- 
ality ? 


214     IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

She  shuffled  the  music  irritably  along  the  piano. 
There  passed  the  beautiful  Elijah  aria,  which  Latache 
was  preparing  her  to  sing  in  the  big  choir  of  which 
he  was  the  director.  She  did  not  sing  it  now,  but 
played  it  in  a  wistful,  preoccupied  way. 

"  And  He  shall  give  thee  thine  heart's  desire." 
The  heart's  desire  —  high  and  noble  desires, 
surely  —  not  foolish  little  human  desires.  The  hun- 
ger of  a  woman  for  the  love  and  dear  companion- 
ship of  one  man  —  would  he  also  grant  that? 
Strange  thing,  this  soul  of  woman.  Here  was  she 
herself,  led  through  such  experiences  as  she  could  not 
have  come  through  alone,  catching  visions  of  such 
vastness  of  life  around  and  before  as  should  have 
lifted  her  to  rapt,  transcendent  states.  And  in- 
stead, she  turned  coolly  away  and  her  heart  made 
its  demand  with  age-long  assurance :  "  Give  me  this 
man  to  love." 


CHAPTER  XXI 

ELSIE  awoke  the  next  morning  with  a  sense  of 
burden.  She  went  down  to  breakfast  with  a 
grave,  preoccupied  face.  After  Alan  had  gone  she 
dusted  the  dining-  and  living-rooms,  with  the  same 
feeling  —  that  of  dallying  with  an  issue.  She  knew 
she  had  to  take  this  impending,  intangible  and  per- 
haps altogether  fictitious  trouble  and  sit  down  with 
it,  and  talk  it  over  with  herself,  and  decide  once  for 
all  whether  she  ought  to  try  to  do  anything  with  it. 
She  did  not  see  what  she  could  do;  it  seemed  in  a 
way  preposterous  to  think  of  trying  to  meddle  in 
the  matter.  At  the  same  time  she  could  not  let  it 
alone.  She  went  out  into  the  garden  and  crossed 
verbal  swords  with  the  prosaic  Lee,  and  thither,  also, 
went  the  patient  issue.  Elsie  reflected,  almost  petu- 
lantly, that  life  was  a  horribly  uncompromising 
thing.  It  would  not  brook  the  least  neglect  of  any  of 
the  tests  it  presented.  In  fact,  there  was  no  such 
thing  as  neglecting  them.  They  merely  waited. 
And  it  occurred  to  Elsie  that  most  failures  consisted 
of  this  —  a  putting  aside,  from  disinclination  or 
fear,  of  things  to  be  faced,  until  the  total  was  too 
great  to  be  met. 

When  the  telephone  bell  rang  she  went  back  into 
215 


216      IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

the  house,  rejoicing  at  the  prospect  of  a  possible 
break  in  her  mood.  It  would  be  either  Addie  or 
Willett,  she  knew.  It  was  Willett. 

"  Top  o'  the  morning !  "  he  greeted  her  cheerily. 

"  Thank  you.  But  I  feel  at  the  bottom  of  it," 
she  responded. 

"Yes?     How  is  that?" 

"  Oh,  on  the  precipitation  principle,  I  suppose." 

"  Heavy-hearted?  "  he  queried. 

"  N-no.  Jes'  a  wonderin'  what  it 's  all  about,  any- 
how." 

"  Don't  wonder,"  advised  Willett,  "  let  things 
slide." 

"  Humph !  They  mostly  do,  whether  I  let  them 
or  not,"  declared  Elsie  almost  resentfully. 

"  Well,  go  with  them  with  a  whoop  and  hurrah," 
instructed  Willett.  "  That  used  to  be  you,  all  over. 
And  you  got  along  all  right,  did  n't  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  so  far,"  Elsie  laughed.  "  But  you  know 
there  's  always  an  end  to  even  the  longest  slide  and 
sometimes  there  's  a  horrible  bump  at  the  bottom." 

"  Bumps  are  good  for  one,"  said  Willett,  laugh- 
ingly. "  All  slide  and  no  bump  would  n't  be  any 
sport  at  all." 

"  Humph !  "  observed  Elsie  dubiously.  "  Is  this 
advice  given  from  personal  experience?  " 

"  No,  it  is  n't,"  confessed  Willett  with  prompt 
good  humor.  "  But  the  principle  remains.  A  few 
bumps  would  be  good  for  me." 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER      217 

"  Sometimes/'  said  Elsie,  in  a  voice  of  ominous 
prophecy,  "  the  bumps  come  all  in  a  bunch  at  the 
end  of  the  performance." 

"Let  'em,"  scoffed  Willett.  "I  shall  be  ready 
for  them." 

Elsie  reflected,  as  she  sat  and  listened  to  his  words, 
how  much  less  than  useless  it  would  be  to  approach 
him  on  the  subject  of  Addie's  disclosure,  even  if 
she  were  free  to  do  so  —  which  she  was  not.  He 
would  guess  at  once  from  what  source  her  informa- 
tion came ;  and  he  was  too  powerful  a  man,  too  much 
in  touch  with  councilmen  and  senators  and  politi- 
cians, men  controlling  valuable  positions  such  as 
Terry  McKeene's,  for  Addie  to  wish  even  to  seem 
to  be  in  league  against  him.  In  any  case  it  would 
do  no  good.  If  he  had  really  made  up  his  mind  to 
any  such  move  as  Terry's  information  credited  him 
with,  he  would  simply  laugh  the  whole  thing  off 
the  board  to  her,  and  go  calmly  on  with  it. 

After  their  light,  bantering  conversation,  which 
apparently  meant  so  little  but  which  Elsie  felt  cov- 
ered so  much,  was  over  and  he  had  bidden  her  a 
knightly  and  affectionate  adieu,  Elsie  still  sat  at  the 
telephone  stand,  nursing  her  face  in  her  cupped 
hands. 

The  bright  morning  light  came  in  waves  of  soft 
green  through  the  vine-covered  glass  of  the  sun- 
room  ;  the  fountain  bubbled  and  trickled  in  soft, 
soothing  monotony.  It  was  a  dear  and  pleasant 


2i8      IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

home.  If  Alan  had  to  go  afield  for  another  posi- 
tion, she  would  probably  have  to  leave  it.  But  in 
view  of  the  greater  gain  she  would  not  mind  that. 
She  would  go  with  him  gladly. 

No,  it  was  not  the  possible  loss  of  his  position 
that  hurt  her  as  regarded  Alan.  What  did  hurt  her 
—  hurt  her  tenderness  for  the  man  she  loved,  her 
quick  pride  in  him  —  was  the  fact  that  he  would 
seem  to  be  so  easily  dispensed  with  as  a  man  of  no  es- 
pecial value  or  worth.  If  only  men,  the  big  men 
of  the  company,  could  understand  why  he  went,  and 
by  whose  agency,  she  felt  that  she  could  be  fairly 
content.  And  that  brought  her  back  to  the  idea  of 
going  to  the  president,  Calthorpe,  an  idea  which 
had  come  into  her  mind  even  as  Addie  had  been 
speaking  of  the  matter.  .And  several  times  since. 
Well,  why  not  go  to  him?  Whatever  he  did  or  did 
not  do,  he  would  know  and  understand.  That  was 
the  main  thing.  It  was  an  unusual,  almost  a  risky, 
thing  to  think  of  doing.  He  would  probably  not 
wish  to  listen  to  her  on  the  subject.  But  if  she 
could  get  enough  into  even  the  first  few  words  — 
say,  before  he  divined  her  intention  —  so  that  he 
would  know,  that  was  all  she  would  care  about  - 
just  so  that  he  knew. 

While  she  still  sat  the  door-bell  rang,  and  Ada 
came  and  admitted  some  one.  Elsie  rose  and  went 
into  the  living-room,  finding,  to  her  surprise,  Addie 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER      219 

coming  across  the  floor  to  meet  her.  She  was  fully 
dressed  for  the  street. 

"  Going  or  coming?  "  inquired  Elsie,  quizzically. 

"  Coming,"  almost  hurriedly.  "  Had  a  letter 
from  Terry  this  morning.  The  latest  thing  in  foot- 
wear for  his  business  is  silk  inside  wool,  and  so  he 
wanted  a  supply  of  silk  socks  sent  at  once  —  within 
five  minutes  after  the  receipt  of  the  letter.  No," 
shaking  her  head  as  Elsie  pulled  a  chair  up  for  her, 
"  can't  stay  a  minute.  I  'm  late  as  it  is.  And  the 
Ulmeisters  are  coming  for  luncheon." 

Elsie  looked  at  her  keenly.  She  must  surely  be 
imagining  it,  but  she  could  almost  think  that  Addie 
looked  flustered. 

"  And  so  I  went  down  at  once  and  sent  off  the 
socks,"  went  on  Addie.  "  And  —  Now,  Elsie,  for 
goodness'  sake  don't  ever  let  Alan  know  that  I  was 
busy  enough  to  rush  right  home  to  tell  you  this.  Tt 
is  n't  that.  But —  I  just  know  it 's  to  do  with  you. 
And  you  must  know  where  you  're  going,  as  far  as 
possible.  If  it  were  a  case  of  coming  to  tell  a 
woman  that  I  had  seen  her  husband  talking  to  an- 
other woman  —  "  Addie  tossed  her  head  in  refuta- 
tion of  the  possibility  of  such  a  thing. 

Elsie  stood  and  gazed  at  her,  waiting.  She  knew 
enough  by  this  time  of  Addie's  way  of  getting  to  a 
subject  not  to  question  or  even  try  to  guess. 

"  I  took  the  street  car  to  town,"  went  on  Addie. 


220    IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

"Jim  had  the  electric  down  at  the  battery  man's. 
When  I  was  ready  to  come  home,  and  waiting  on 
the  corner  by  the  International  for  my  car,  whom 
should  I  see  a  few  feet  in  front  of  me  but  Alan, 
talking  to  a  young  woman.  I  would  n't  have 
thought  anything  much  of  that,  only  the  girl  looked 
—  oh,  excited  almost.  And  Alan  was  talking  very 
seriously  to  her.  A  street  car  came  along  and  as  a 
truck  was  standing  near  the  curb  I  had  to  step  a  little 
nearer  to  them  to  see  if  it  were  my  car,  and  I  heard 
Alan  say,  '  But  I  thank  you  just  the  same  for  telling 
me  these  things,  although  I  can't  bring  myself  to  be- 
lieve them.'  It  was  n't  my  car,  so  I  stepped  back. 
It  was  her  car,  though,  and  Alan  put  her  on  it. 
Then  he  saw  me  and  came  up  and  asked  me  if  I 
were  waiting  for  a  car.  I  told  him  yes.  And  then, 
because  I  don't  often  get  a  chance  to  tease  him  about 
another  woman,  I  said,  '  I  'd  ask  you  to  hurry  it  up, 
but  from  what  I  see  I  don't  believe  you  're  a  very 
sympathetic  squire  of  dames  in  distress.'  He  knew 
what  I  meant  and  looked  almost  disgusted.  He  said, 
'  That 's  Miss  Hamby  —  President  Calthorpe's  sec- 
retary. Railroad  business  only,  you  see.'  But  he 
was  troubled."  Addie  looked  at  Elsie  with  inquir- 
ing eyes.  "  Don't  you  think  she  had  been  telling 
him  —  I  don't  know  —  I  have  a  feeling  she  — " 

Elsie  looked  at  her  with  eyes  fairly  set  in  a  wide 
stare.  Then  she  laughed,  a  reckless  laugh,  full  of  a 
sort  of  defiant  despair. 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER     221 

"  Let  the  deluge  come.  It 's  better  than  waiting 
for  it.  The  stage  is  all  set  for  the  last  scene  in  the 
mellow-drama."  She  stretched  out  her  arm  with  a 
mock  melodramatic  gesture.  "  The  tornado  com- 
ing down  the  valley,  the  vilyun  creeping  up  the  wind- 
ing path  toward  the  lonely  cabin  where  the  helpless 
maiden  is  —  Is  n't  it  funny,  Addie  ?  " 

She  laughed  again.  But  Addie  was  rather 
shocked.  She  had  been  about  to  say  more,  but  at 
Elsie's  outburst  her  attitude  changed. 

"  Now,  kidlets,  dear! "  she  expostulated.  "  Don't 
get  excited." 

"  Oh,  I  won't,"  declared  Elsie.  "  Don't  you  know 
that  too  much  is  a  sedative?  " 


CHAPTER  XXII 

WHEN  Addie  left  her  and  hurried  home,  Elsie 
found  only  one  clear  thought  left  in  her 
mind.  The  idea  of  going  to  see  President  Cal- 
thorpe  had  strengthened  somehow  into  a  determina- 
tion. She  wished  to  do  it,  and  do  it  at  once.  She 
wished  to  set  her  house  straight  while  yet  it  stood  up 
about  her.  And  that  was  the  only  thing  she  could 
see  to  do.  She  would  do  it.  And  after  that  — 

Though  she  did  not  realize  it,  she  was  in  a  state 
of  suppressed  excitement  that  keyed  her  up  to  above 
normal.  But  she  went  about  the  fulfilment  of  herx 
plans  in  a  careful,  orderly  way.  First  of  all  it  oc- 
curred to  her  that  Miss  Hamby  must  be  back  at  her 
post.  If  so  —  she  did  not  know  —  what  could  Una 
do  to  her,  anyway,  more  than  she,  herself,  had  done, 
and  would  do  ? 

Elsie  ate  a  very  light  lunch  —  hardly  did  more 
than  drink  the  cup  of  chocolate  that  Ada  brought 
her  —  and  then  went  upstairs  and  dressed  with  much 
care  and  consideration  for  the  city. 

The  doing  of  the  nearest  duty  carries  with  it  a 
very  soothing  effect.  Or  else  youth  and  health  are 
incurably  optimistic.  Or  perhaps  both.  At  all 

222 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER      223 

events,  as  she  rode  down  to  the  city,  Elsie  even  began 
to  hope  again.  Perhaps  Alan  would  not  believe 
Una's  tale.  How  could  he?  Who  would?  And 
if  only  he  would  leave  town  and  take  her  with  him, 
all  might  yet  be  well.  She  would  show  him  by  her 
life  and  service  that,  whatever  he  thought  of  her 
past,  she  was  now  a  woman  worthy  of  respect.  All 
her  hopes  came  to  be  hinged  on  that  —  Alan's  leav- 
ing town  and  taking  her  with  him. 

Very  busily,  but  not  at  all  fearfully,  Elsie  re- 
hearsed to  herself  the  exact  words  in  which  she 
would  state  her  errand  to  the  president,  should  she 
succeed  in  seeing  him.  Her  main  anxiety  was  to 
make  her  statement  as  brief  as  possible,  compatible 
with  covering  all  the  information  necessary.  For 
two  reasons  —  on  account  of  a  business  man's  sup- 
posed contempt  for  even  one  superfluous  word  and 
because  she  wished  all  possible  facts  uttered  before 
any  interruption  could  occur. 

So  intent  was  Elsie  on  her  errand  and  the  right 
and  successful  conduct  of  it,  that  it  never  occurred 
to  her,  as  she  stepped  out  of  the  elevator  of  the  sec- 
ond floor  of  the  Blain  Building,  and  entered  the  L. 
S.  &  E.  offices,  that  any  one  besides  Miss  Hamby 
would  be  at  all  likely  to  know  her  even  by  sight.  So 
she  was  oblivious  to  the  quick  stare  with  which  the 
office  boy  who  took  her  card  favored  her.  When 
the  boy  came  back  and  informed  her  that  the  presi- 
dent would  see  her,  she  followed  him  through  a  long 


224       IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

room,  with  many  desks.  As  they  approached  a 
heavy  one-paneled  door  at  the  far  end  of  this  room, 
the  door  opened  and  Una  Hamby  stepped  out.  As 
Elsie  passed  her,  their  eyes  met,  for  the  first  time 
since  that  good-by  at  St.  Stephen's  Hospital.  In 
those  black-lashed  gray  eyes  still  flamed  resentment 
and  hostility  and  it  seemed  to  Elsie  that  they  flashed 
a  message  in  which  threat  of  attack  was  strength- 
ened by  confidence  of  success.  But  in  that  moment 
Elsie  passed  the  threshhold  of  the  president's  office 
and  the  boy  had  closed  the  heavy  door  gently  behind 
her. 

She  looked  across  a  big  flat  mahogany  desk  at  a 
man  who  had  risen  from  a  revolving  chair,  to  the 
stranger  whom  she  must  know  so  well.  Calthorpe 
was  not  a  large  man  —  of  about  average  height  and 
breadth  —  but  he  gave  the  idea  of  being  closely  and 
firmly  knit,  both  mentally  and  physically.  He  was 
a  man  past  fifty  and  his  face  spoke  of  a  clean,  con- 
centrated life.  The  glance  from  the  gray-green  eyes 
was  so  reposeful,  almost  casual,  that  men  were  likely 
to  underestimate  the  searching  qualities  of  it. 
President  Calthorpe  had  come  up  all  the  way  from 
magazine-and-candy  boy.  He  •  had  educated  him- 
self. But  greater  by  far  than  the  education  he  had 
given  himself  was  the  wisdom  the  world  of  men 
had  given  him  as  he  passed  among  them.  So  sus- 
ceptible was  he  to  shades  of  human  character,  so  in- 
tuitive and  instinctive  a  judge,  that  the  study  of  it 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER     225 

was  a  daily  fascination  to  him.  Almost  any  one, 
with  half  an  excuse  for  doing  so,  could  come  into 
his  presence,  and  leaving,  generally  left  behind  him 
more  than  he  dreamed.  And  so,  because  of  the 
value  he  placed  on  the  human  unit,  more  than  and 
apart  from  the  fact  that  she  was  the  wife  of  one  of 
his  favorite  employees,  Calthorpe  looked  with  keen, 
quiet  interest  at  the  woman  before  him,  and  looking, 
felt  his  interest  grow.  So  alive !  She  was  as 
clear  and  unobstructed  a  vehicle  or  channel  for  the 
life  force  as  the  electric  filament  above  him  was  for 
the  illuminating  current.  It  almost  seemed  to  shine 
through  the  fineness  of  her,  and  the  sensitive,  recep- 
tive spirit  of  the  man  warmed  at  the  life  glow. 

He  had  seen  her  before,  but  very  casually.  He 
remembered  that  she  had  been  a  participant  in  the 
accident ;  but  as  Renshaw  had  hurried  her  home,  and 
as  he  had  been  so  occupied  at  the  time  with  his  own 
share  of  the  affair,  and  as  Alan  had  calmly  assured 
him  the  following  morning  that  she  had  come  out 
of  it  absolutely  unharmed,  he  had  thought  little 
more  of  it.  Since  his  wife's  death,  Calthorpe  had 
lived  almost  exclusively  in  a  world  of  men  —  men 
of  affairs,  too  busy  to  be  interested  in  gossip.  And 
so,  having  heard  nothing  previously,  Calthorpe  at- 
tached very  little  importance  or  significance  to  the 
fact  that  Alan's  wife  was  with  Renshaw  at  the  time 
of  the  accident. 

So  eager  was  Elsie  to  take  the  measure  of  the 


226     IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

man  she  was  to  speak  to,  that  she  was  perfectly  un- 
conscious of  the  steady,  grave  stare  exchanged  be- 
tween them.  Calthorpe  was  the  first  to  return  to 
formalities.  He  bowed  smilingly,  and  coming  round 
his  desk  drew  a  chair  forward  for  her. 

"  How  do  you  do,  Mrs.  Leland  ?  Won't  you  sit 
down?" 

Elsie  smiled  and  sat  down.  But  her  gaze  re- 
turned immediately  to  the  man  who  took  a  seat 
near  her,  and  she  prepared  to  begin  her  errand  at 
once,  without  giving  her  intent  any  chance  to  weaken. 

"  I  have  n't  taken  precedent  or  convention  very 
much  into  consideration  in  coming  here,  Mr.  Cal- 
thorpe, and  so  I  won't  stop  to  consider  them  now," 
she  began,  speaking  rapidly  but  clearly.  "  It 's  just 
something  I  want  to  do  to  ease  my  mind.  If  the  in- 
formation I  have  is  correct,  the  fact  that  you  '11 
know  what  I  shall  have  told  you  will  be  sufficient. 
If  it  is  not  correct,  will  you  please  forget  that  I 
came?  " 

Calthorpe  made  no  reply.  She  did  not  seem  to 
expect  it.  He  kept  curious  eyes  on  her  face;  but 
she,  as  soon  as  she  began  to  speak, 'looked  over  and 
beyond,  as  if  addressing  an  audience. 

"  I  am  told  that  my  husband,  your  constructing 
engineer,  is  about  to  be  discharged  —  no,  dispensed 
with  is  better.  That  does  n't  matter  very  much,  as 
long  as  you  understand  why.  So  please  let  me  ex- 


I 
IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER      227 

plain.  I  was  an  only  girl,  brought  up  to  think  fine 
clothes  and  pleasure  the  two  main  things  in  life.  I 
married  a  man  who  could  n't  give  me,  perhaps,  quite 
all  I  had  been  accustomed  to  in  those  lines.  He 
gave  me  what  was  of  far  greater  value,  of  course; 
but  I  had  n't  sense  enough  to  see  that.  I  was  de- 
termined to  get  all  I  wanted;  and  so  I  cultivated 
friends  who  had  the  things  I  craved.  Among  these 
was  Willett  Renshaw.  He  had  everything  that 
money  could  get.  A  few  months  ago  I  —  something 
happened  to  show  me  just  where  I  stood.  I  turned 
over  another  leaf  —  tried  to.  Among  my  friends 
the  belief  is  firm  and  unalterable  that  fear  of  Alan, 
and  some  threat  of  his,  has  produced  the  change  in 
me.  It  has  not.  To  save  me  from  myself  as  far 
as  possible,  he  gave  me  the  protection  of  his  home 
and  name  after  he  knew  I  had  ceased  to  be  worthy 
of  it.  To  remove  this  unwelcome,  restraining  influ- 
ence, Alan  is  to  be  forced  to  seek  work  at  a  dis- 
tance. At  least,  so  I  am  told." 

She  rose.  "  That 's  all  I  wanted  to  do  —  to  let 
you  know  why  he  goes,  if  he  does  go,  because  you 
would  hardly  learn  it  otherwise.  That 's  only  fair 
to  him,  to  the  quality  of  work  he  has  done,  and  to 
the  love  he  has  put  into  it.  All  I  want,"  she  re- 
peated, "  all  I  want  —  to  ask  of  you  is,  that  when  he 
goes  you  will  somehow  let  him  know  that  you  know. 
Not  how  you  know  —  Oh,  you  will  know  how  to  do 


228     IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

it,  impossible  as  it  may  seem  to  do!  Just  so  it 
won't  look  as  if  he  were  of  no  particular  value,  to  be 
easily  spared  any  minute." 

She  smiled  at  the  still  silent  and  curious  presi- 
dent—  a  quaint  half-roguish  smile.  "And  now 
I  'm  glad  I  've  done  it.  When  I  go  home  and  think 
it  over,  it  will  look  childish  and  absurd  and  awful. 
That  's  why  it 's  often  a  good  plan  to  do  a  thing 
first  and  think  it  over  after.  Else  it  '11  begin  to  look 
unnatural  —  like  a  word  when  we  look  at  it." 

She  turned  to  the  door  and  Calthorpe  rose.  He 
was  too  good  a  business  man  to  commit  himself  in 
any  way  in  a  matter  like  this.  And  this  was  plainly 
an  emotional  woman,  even  if  a  brave  one.  But  be- 
cause he  understood  a  very  great  deal,  and  also  be- 
cause he  was  after  all  a  man,  He  smiled  down  into  the 
wide  eyes  that  spoke  to  him  so  eagerly.  "  I  am  very 
glad  you  came  to  see  me." 

He  opened  the  door  for  her,  Elsie  smiled  up  at 
him  and  then  passed  quickly  <5ut.  So  full  was  her 
mind  of  what  she  had  just  done,  that  even  Una 
Hamby  was  not  in  her  thoughts  and  she  walked 
down  the  long  room  seeing  nothing.  Thus  she  did 
not  notice  Alan  at  the  far  end  of  it,  busily  turning 
over  papers  in  a  desk.  But  he  lifted  his  head  and 
gazed  in  amazement  at  the  woman  who  came  out  of 
the  president's  room  and  walked  quickly  and  thought- 
fully down  the  office  and  out. 

So  completely  had  Elsie  been  possessed  by  the 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER      229 

idea  of  what  she  meant  to  do  and  by  the  necessity 
of  doing  it  at  once,  that  the  possibility  of  running 
into  Alan  at  the  office  had  never  even  occurred  to 
her,  and  did  not  now.  In  fact,  she  always  thought 
of  him  as  somewhere  on  the  line.  So  she  went  out 
to  the  elevator,  was  carried  down  to  the  main  floor, 
and  stepped  out,  still  totally  engrossed  with  her  af- 
fairs. There  a  hand  was  slipped  firmly  but  caress- 
ingly under  her  elbow,  and  startled  suddenly  out  of 
her  dreaming  into  recognition  of  her  surroundings, 
she  looked  up  into  the  smiling,  amused  eyes  of  Wil- 
let  Renshaw. 

"Such  a  preoccupied  little  lady!"  he  observed/ 
still  keeping  the  light,  guiding  hand  on  her  arm,  and 
turning  to  walk  by  her  side  down  the  big  lobby  of 
the  building.  "  I  was  passing  and  saw  you  enter 
the  building,  so  I  jumped  out  of  the  car  and  waited. 
Why  did  n't  you  tell  me  you  were  coming  down  this 
afternoon,  you  little  wretch?  And  where  are  you 
going  now  ? " 

Already  Elsie  was  turning  over  in  her  mind  how 
best  to  escape.  "  Oh,  I  've  just  a  little  shopping  to 
do,  Willett  — " 

"  Well,  I  '11  take  you  and  set  you  down  wherever 
you  want  to  begin  the  giddy  round,"  decided  Ren- 
shaw easily. 

They  had  reached  the  big  revolving  doors  and 
Renshaw  put  out  his  hand  to  arrest  their  movement. 
A  man  who  had  stepped  out  of  one  of  the  elevators 


23o    JN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

almost  immediately  after  Elsie,  waited  also,  and  as 
he  did  so  lifted  his  hat.  Renshaw  did  the  same,  his 
smile  still  unchanged;  and  Elsie  glanced  up.  And 
then  her  knees  suddenly  weakened ;  and  it  seemed  as 
if  men,  doors,  and  building  were  reduced  to  a  blur. 
It  was  Alan.  And  she  felt,  rather  than  saw,  the 
cool,  unconcerned  gaze  that  took  them  both  in. 

Somehow  she  got  into  the  revolving  door,  fol- 
lowed closely  by  Renshaw,  and  stepped  out  upon  the 
sidewalk.  Renshaw  stayed  by  her  side,  but  Alan 
walked  in  a  calm,  businesslike  way  up  the  street,  and 
was  lost  in  a  moment  among  the  people. 

Elsie  gave  a  long  sigh,  like  a  woman  waking  from 
a  swoon,  and  turned  away.  She  was  sick  at  heart 
and  hardly  knew  what  she  did.  But  Renshaw  took 
her  arm  .authoritatively  and  turned  her  to  the  big 
car  that  stood  at  the  curb.  He  looked  at  her  with 
startled  concern.  She  was  ghastly  white. 

"  Elsie,  for  heaven's  sake  —  what 's  the  matter?  " 
he  demanded  in  a  low  tone.  "  Any  one  would  think 
you  were  a  fugitive  from  some  harem.  Alan  can't 
tie  you  in  a  sack  and  throw  you  into  the  river,  you 
know.  Wake  up." 

Elsie  felt  like  putting  both  hands  over  her  face 
and  sinking  upon  the  sidewalk.  And  yet  she  wished 
to  strike  furiously  at  the  man  at  her  side.  With  it 
all  she  felt  weak  and  cold  and  ill. 

"Please  let  me  go!"  she  said  with  sick  fretful- 
ness.  "  I  'm  going  home,  I  don't  feel  well" 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER      231 

But  Renshaw  answered  her  almost  roughly. 
"  No.  You  're  in  no  condition  to  take  yourself 
home.  Jump  in.  I  '11  take  you  home  myself." 

He  had  the  door  of  the  car  open  and  his  hand 
was  on  her  arm  to  help  her  in.  To  resist  would  be 
to  cause  a  scene  perhaps.  So  she  got  in  and  sank 
wearily  into  the  deep  buff  cushions.  And  so  she  re- 
mained as  he  drove  along,  hands  folded  limply  on  her 
lap  and  eyes  staring  hopelessly  before  her,  hardly 
noticing,  and  hardly  caring  to  notice,  that  he  did 
really  drive  her  straight  home. 

Arrived  at  Schuyler  Street,  he  helped  her  out,  and 
then  in  silence  entered  the  house  with  her.  But 
when  the  somewhat  curious  Ada  had  returned  to  the 
kitchen,  he  turned  almost  harshly  on  her. 

"  Sit  here,"  drawing  a  big  leather  chair  toward 
her.  "  You  don't  look  as  if  you  could  stand  much 
longer.  For  the  Lord's  sake,  what  does  all  this 
tragedy  business  mean  ?  " 

Elsie  did  not  even  look  up.  She  laid  her  head 
back  on  the  leather  in  a  tired,  hopeless  way.  "  It 
means  that  you  're  trying  to  ruin  my  life.  And  I 
suppose  you  '11  succeed." 

"  Ruin  your  life!  "  He  laughed  contemptuously, 
exasperated  out  of  his  usual  gentleness.  "  What 
nonsense  you  talk!  For  stopping  to  talk  to  you  in 
the  lobby  of  a  public  building?  Is  that  the  kind  of 
tyrant  you  have  to  live  with  ?  " 

She  smiled  faintly.     It  was  so  useless  to  talk. 


232     IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

'  There  's  got  to  be  an  end  to  this  wordless  non- 
sense between  us,"  Renshaw  went  on,  both  anger 
and  determination  in  his  voice.  "  So  now,  tell  me 
what  the  trouble  is.  Then  we  can  both  face  it  and 
see  what  is  best  to  be  done.  What  does  all  this 


mean  ; 


Elsie  laughed  —  a  bitter,  reckless,  twisted  sort  of 
laugh.  "  I  don't  know.  I  wish  I  did.  I  suppose 
it 's  all  very  amusing  to  —  to  some  one." 

Her  bitterness  was  so  quiet,  so  intense,  that  Ren- 
shaw was  startled  out  of  his  anger.  He  was  a  big 
man,  and  not  bad-hearted.  He  looked  at  the  slender 
figure  with  the  set,  white  face,  and  decided  that  now 
was  no  time  to  make  her  talk.  Besides,  talking  was 
useless,  after  all.  He  would  attend  to  things  on  his 
own  initiative,  and  in  his  own  way. 

He  seated  himself  on  the  arm  of  her  chair,  stroked 
the  hair  from  her  forehead,  and  kissed  the  smooth 
white  temple. 

"  Well,  I  won't  bother  you  now,  poor  little  mis- 
erable girl.  But  I  '11  settle  with  that  brute." 

"  He  is  n't !  "  said  Elsie,  trying  to  put  spirit  into 
her  voice.  "  I  'm  the  one  that  has  done  wrong. 
He  has  n't  done  anything  to  me." 

"  No,  does  n't  look  like  it,"  sarcastically.  "  You 
look  so  happy.  It 's  a  positive  shame  to  even  want 
to  interfere  with  such  happiness."  He  rose  and 
bent  over  her.  "  Go  upstairs,  and  lie  down  now,  pet. 
You  need  rest  and  sleep.  Besides,  you  don't  want 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER      233 

that  girl  to  see  you  like  this.  Come.  Let  me  see 
you  start," 

He  almost  lifted  her  out  of  the  chair  and  led  her 
to  the  foot  of  the  staircase.  There  he  kissed  her 
and  stroked  her  cheek  soothingly.  "  Cheer  up,"  he 
whispered,  "  everything  will  come  all  right.  Trust 
me.  It 's  darkest  before  dawn,  you  know.  Now 
go  up  and  take  a  good  sleep." 

And  Elsie  went  obediently  up  the  stairs  without 
even  turning  to  look  back. 

Elsie  lay  on  her  bed  for  an  hour  or  more.  Sleep 
was  entirely  out  of  the  question  and  thought  almost 
as  impossible.  She  was  like  a  woman  stunned  by  a 
great  loss.  And  that  was  actually  what  she  was. 
On  the  surface  but  a  very  slight  thing  had  happened. 
But  Elsie  was  not  deceived  as  to  the  inner  signifi- 
cance of  the  afternoon's  events.  She  knew  that  her 
dream  and  hope  of  happiness  was  gone  —  a  dream 
that  she  had  hardly  ventured  to  picture  in  just 
so  many  lines  to  herself,  but  which  had  been  surely 
with  her  nevertheless  —  the  dream  of  one  day  pos- 
sessing the  love  and  respect  of  the  man  who  stood 
between  her  and  the  world  as  husband,  though  she 
was  no  wife.  She  knew  how  dear  had  been  the 
gradually  growing  companionship  between  them, 
how  precious,  how  carefully  nursed  by  her;  how 
treasured  each  look  of  awakening  interest,  each 
slowly  lengthening  dinner  chat,  each  desultory  walk 
together  round  the  pretty  garden.  Gone  now,  past 


234     IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

all  hope.     She  knew  Alan  well  enough   for  that. 

It  did  not  seem  to  her  that  it  would  be  humanly 
possible  to  face  him  at  dinner  that  night.  But  no 
other  course  was  to  be  thought  of.  To  absent  her- 
self was  to  admit  not  only  guilt  but  the  realization 
of  guilt.  So,  about  five  o'clock  she  rose,  and  bathed 
her  pale  face  in  first  hot,  then  cold  water  to  force  up 
a  color,  dressed  her  hair  with  greater  than  usual 
care,  and  put  on  the  blue-silk  gown.  And  then  she 
paced  and  fidgeted  from  place  to  place  till  Alan 
came. 

He  greeted  her  pleasantly,  just  as  she  knew  he 
would.  And  at  the  table  he  was  neither  sulky  nor 
silent.  He  discussed  the  cave-in  at  the  excavation 
for  a  big  city  building;  mentioned  the  opinion  of  a 
confrere  of  an  opera  company  then  in  the  city;  made 
some  observations  upon  an  automobile  contest  then 
being  held  by  the  two  evening  papers.  But  his  words 
could  just  as  easily  have  been  addressed  to  the  per- 
son sitting  next  to  him  in  a  street  car  for  all  the  fa- 
miliarity or  comradeship  they  expressed.  He  was 
evidently  not  going  even  to  refer  to  either  Una 
Hamby's  interview  with  himself  or  his  meeting  with 
Elsie  and  Renshaw.  He  was  going  to  ignore  both, 
as  being  outside  his  life  as  he  intended  to  make  it. 
And  Elsie  accepted  the  verdict  in  silence.  She 
closed  the  door  of  the  roseate  temple  of  hope  behind 
her,  and  stood  without,  friendless,  hopeless,  alone. 

After  dinner  she  roamed  in  the  garden  until  dark 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER      235 

fell,  and  then  came  into  the  living-room,  where  Alan 
had  already  switched  on  the  lights  and  was  reading. 
She  sat  quietly  down,  herself,  and  placed  a  book  on 
her  knee  for  effect,  though  she  made  no  attempt  to 
read.  She  was  suffering  a  revulsion  of  feeling  from 
the  stunned  and  enfeebled  calm  of  the  afternoon. 
She  was  raging,  rebelling  within  herself  at  every- 
thing and  every  one.  She  felt  she  could  fly  at  Alan 
and  take  him  by  the  shoulders  and  shake  him  with 
every  atom  of  strength  she  possessed,  and  make 
him  scold,  catechize,  bully  her,  beat  her  —  anything, 
anything,  but  this  calm  ignoring  of  her  and  her' life 
as  a  thing  so  weak  and  disloyal  as  to  be  beneath  a 
man's  anger !  She  raged  and  seethed  at  the  thought 
of  Willett  and  his  smiling  insistence;  at  fate  that 
had  set  her  down  in  the  midst  of  a  set  of  circum- 
stances with  which  she  could  not  cope.  But  creep- 
ing through  her  rage,  and  in  spite  of  it,  came  the 
unwelcome  recognition,  the  realization  which  coolly 
forced  itself  upon  her,  that  this,  her  greatest  un- 
doing, had  been  of  her  own  making.  Where  Ren- 
shaw  had  been  concerned,  she  had  been  weak,  shilly- 
shallying; she  should  have  disregarded  all  apparent 
risks  and  cut  him  out  of  her  life.  It  was  plain 
enough.  She  had  been  safely  led  through  every- 
thing. Out  of  all  the  seemingly  impossible  situa- 
tions, the  almost  insurmountable  difficulties  that  had 
confronted  her,  she  had  come  safely  and  well.  Only 
her  own  perversity  had  done  her  any  lasting  harm. 


THINGS  went  on  as  usual  during  the  following 
week ;  but  on  the  Monday  following  that  Alan 
did  not  go  to  the  office.  He  stayed  at  home  and  read 
the  newspaper  and  smoked  in  the  garden.  Elsie 
divined,  of  course,  what  had  happened;  and  by  the 
fact  that  Alan  made  absolutely  no  comment  one 
way  or  another,  she  knew  that  he  either  knew  or 
surmised  her  knowledge  of  the  matter.  And  for 
the  days  that  followed  she  could  hardly  bear  her 
life,  she  was  in  such  a  state  of  nervous  suspense.  It 
was  truly  such  a  state  of  affairs  as  she  described  to 
Addie  when  that  lady  called  up  and  demanded  that 
she  come  over. 

"  Oh,  don't  ask  me,  Addie !  I  should  drive  you 
crazy.  Positively,  I  'm  like  a  cat  on  hot  bricks." 

"  Hm-m.     Are  you  alone?  " 

"  Yes,  just  at  present." 

"  The  blow  has  fallen,  has  n't  it?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  I  thought  so.     Well  — " 

"  Why  did  you  think  so  ? "  interrupted  Elsie. 
"Did  Willettcall  up?" 

"Yes.     But  he  didn't  say  anything  about  that, 

silly." 

236 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER     237 

"  I  suppose  not.  But  you  could  draw  your  own 
inferences,"  asserted  Elsie.  "  I  noticed  my  daily 
calls  ceased  simultaneously." 

Addie  laughed.  "  Yes.  Rather  marked,  is  n't  it  ? 
Well,  come  along  over.  You  can  walk  round  the 
room  at  the  rate  of  five  miles  an  hour  if  you  want 
to.  I  can't  for  the  life  of  me  see  why  you  let  it  af- 
fect you  so.  It 's  so  much  better  there  should  be  a 
change.  Things  could  n't  go  on  as  they  were.  I  'm 
going  to  send  the  electric  round." 

So  Elsie  went  over  and  spent  the  morning  being 
alternately  scolded  and  comforted.  But  on  her  way 
home  to  luncheon  there  recurred  to  her  the  memory 
of  Una  Hamby's  vindictive  gaze  at  the  threshold 
of  Mr.  Calthorpe's  office.  What  did  it  matter  now, 
thought  Elsie  bitterly,  whether  Una  struck  at  her 
through  Alan  or  still  delayed  the  blow?  The  harm 
was  already  done  and  she  herself  had  done  it.  Yet 
she  knew,  as  she  let  herself  in  at  the  front  door,  that 
even  now  she  was  unwilling  to  face  the  test  that  Una 
might  impose. 

Smiting  upon  her  brain  at  that  very  instant,  as 
she  closed  the  door  behind  her,  came  the  voice  of 
Una  Hamby,  impassioned,  sobbing,  from  the  morn- 
ing-room. 

"  I  had  to  tell  you  the  whole  secret  —  everything 
—  or  you  could  not  possibly  understand  why  I  came 
or  what  I  am  talking  about.  Won't  you  please  try 
to  see  the  situation  as  I  do  ?  " 


238     IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

Elsie  took  a  step  in  the  direction  of  her  enemy's 
voice.  A  calm  courage  had  succeeded  the  first  shock 
of  realization  that  the  dreaded  hour  had  struck. 
It  seemed  just  as  well  now  that  the  whole  miser- 
able business  should  be  gone  into,  the  three  of  them 
together. 

Starting  across  the  living-room,  Elsie  paused 
a  second  to  place  her  gloves  and  a  roll  of  music 
upon  the  table.  She  had  taken  her  courage  —  poor, 
palpitating  thing  that  it  was  —  in  both  hands,  and 
meant  to  face  bravely  whatever  was  coming;  but 
back  to  her  swept  the  old,  unreasoning  fear,  the  sick 
feeling  of  apprehension  that,  like  an  opiate  applied 
to  the  nerves,  robbed  her  limbs  of  strength  and  stif- 
fened her  lips.  Still,  she  turned  resolutely  away 
from  the  table,  and  toward  the  morning-room  —  and 
then  paused  again. 

Alan  was  speaking:  somehow  she  had  to  hear 
what  he  would  say,  to  know  how  he  had  taken 
Una's  disclosures.  His  voice  retained  its  pleasant 
quality,  but  was  firm  and  businesslike,  and  Elsie 
recognized  with  a  faint  feeling  of  relief  and  pleasure 
that  it  was  hardly  sympathetic. 

"  No,  I  'm  sorry  I  can't  see  things  as  you  do,"  he 
said.  "  Your  vision  is  distorted  just  now.  You  're 
nervous  and  overwrought.  I  know  that  if  you  were 
your  own  calm,  sane  self  you  would  never  have  come 
here  to  begin  with." 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER     239 

"  I  would !  I  had  to !  "  declared  Una.  From  the 
catch  in  her  voice  she  was  evidently  crying.  "  You 
did  n't  seem  to  listen  before.  And  I  know  if  you  '11 
only  listen,  and  understand,  and  —  and  do  as  I  say, 
you  can  straighten  things  out." 

"  No,  I  can't  straighten  things  out,"  said  Alan 
quietly.  "  When  lives  get  tangled  as  yours  are,  no 
outsider  can  step  in  and  straighten  them  out." 

"Do  you  mean  you — ?  What  will  you  do, 
then?"  demanded  Una. 

"  I  shall  do  nothing,"  with  decision.  "  Things 
must  take  their  course  and  work  themselves  out." 

"  But  that  '11  ruin  us  all,"  argued  Una  in  her 
broken,  tearful  voice.  "  And  what  is  the  use  of 
ruining  my  life,  too?  " 

"  No  one  can  ruin  our  lives  unless  we  allow  it," 
asserted  Alan,  quietly.  "  It  may  seem  so  for  a 
while,  but  in  the  final  outcome  you  '11  find  it  has  n't 
been  done.  That  is  my  belief,  and  my  hope." 

"  But  they  do  —  It  is,"  declared  Una  impa- 
tiently and  a  trifle  incoherently. 

Alan  had  nothing  further  to  say,  apparently.  El- 
sie, from  her  knowledge  of  him,  could  picture  him 
sitting  watching  his  visitor  with  quiet,  disapproving 
eyes. 

"  Won't  you  —  That 's  what  I  came  for,"  went 
on  Una,  still  persisting ;  "  so  that  we  three  could  talk 
things  over.  We  must :  It 's  the  only  way.  I 


240     IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

can't  stand  it  any  longer.  I  can't  sit  by  and  see 
everything  —  going-  Can't  you  see  that  if 
you  — " 

But  Alan  interrupted  her.  "  Now,  Miss  Hamby, 
T  don't  want  to  seem  unkind,  but  we  may  as  well 
end  this  discussion  at  once.  I  shall  have  nothing 
whatever  to  say  to  Mrs.  Leland  about  this  matter. 
I  shall  not  even  mention  your  visit,  knowing,  as  I 
have  said,  that  when  your  better  judgment  returns 
you  '11  be  the  first  to  rejoice  that  no  one  knows  of 
it." 

"But  why?"  insisted  Una,  apparently  ignoring 
the  implied  rebuke ;  "  why  won't  you  even  discuss 
it?" 

"  Because  it 's  undignified,  for  one  thing,  and  use- 
less, for  another,"  explained  Alan.  Perhaps  out  of 
consideration  for  her  evident  distress,  he  spoke 
gently,  but  still  firmly.  "  You  could  hardly  expect 
Mrs  Leland  to  admit  any  such  state  of  affairs  as 
you  claim." 

As  she  recognized  more  and  more  the  hopeless- 
ness of  her  mission,  Una  sobbed  unrestrainedly. 
"Why,  how  could  she—" 

But  Alan  interrupted  her  again  and  his  voice  took 
on  an  added  curtness.  He  had  evidently  recognized 
the  fact  that  he  was  dealing  with  a  hysterical 
woman. 

"  Now,  Miss  Hamby,  you  must  pardon  me,  but  I 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER      241 

can't  allow  this  interview  to  go  any  further,  for  your 
sake  as  well  as  for  mine.  I  am  truly  sorry  for  your 
unhappiness.  But  I  'm  afraid  you  have  given  way 
to  your  emotions  lately  until  they  are  undermining 
your  judgment.  That  is  a  state  of  affairs  that  can 
easily  come  about  and  is  a  state  very  much  to  be 
dreaded.  Make  up  your  mind  to  await  the  out- 
come of  things  with  dignity.  That 's  really  all  you 
can  do,  and  so  you  may  as  well  do  it  in  a  way  to 
preserve  your  own  and  every  one  else's  respect." 

He  waited  a  second,  but  the  girl's  furious  sobbing 
was  the  only  reply. 

"  I  '11  get  out  the  car  and  run  you  home,"  he  said 
then.  "  And  you  qan  have  a  good  rest.  We  'If 
forget  all  this.  It 's  fortunate  that  there  happens  to 
be  no  one  in  the  house  just  now.  We — " 

Elsie,  standing  transfixed  by  the  table,  was  sud- 
denly galvanized  into  life  by  these  words.  No  one 
in  the  house!  That  was  it.  If  she  disclosed  her 
presence  now  she  would  but  open  up  an  issue  that 
Alan  had  summarily  closed.  Una  had  shot  her  ar- 
row and  it  had  missed  its  mark.  She  had  told 
her  story  and  it  had  not  been  believed.  Elsie  took 
up  her  gloves,  turned  silently  and  swiftly,  and  slipped 
up  the  staircase. 

Very  softly  she  closed  the  door  of  her  room,  stole 
across  the  floor,  and  literally  sank  into  the  wide,  sym- 
pathetic embrace  of  the  cretonne  chair.  Sitting  in 


242     IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

motionless  silence,  she  heard  the  car  come  down  the 
runway  from  the  garage,  heard  the  hall  door  shut, 
heard  the  car  drive  away. 

After  all  was  silent,  she  still  sat  quiet,  her  hat  still 
on  her  head,  her  hands  still  clasping  the  gloves  she 
had  so  hurriedly  snatched  from  the  table.  For  a 
while  she  was  too  startled  and  shaken  to  think  con- 
nectedly. Her  wits  seemed  scattered.  Her  thoughts 
danced  from  one  possibility  to  another.  But  back 
of  her  nervousness  and  trepidation,  and  soon  engulf- 
ing and  dispelling  them,  was  a  big,  warm  thought,  a 
sense  of  comfort.  She  was  still  Alan  Leland's  wife. 
He  had  not  repudiated  her  to  this  woman  who  was 
her  enemy.  While  he  had  not  actually  said  in  so 
many  words  that  he  considered  Una's  statements  ir- 
rational and  the  product  of  a  disordered  mind,  he 
had  plainly  intimated  as  much.  If  he  had  not  be- 
lieved her  story  when  twice  told,  he  never  would. 
There  was  now  no  harm  that  Una  could  do  to  her! 

So  great  was  her  relief  that  at  first  Elsie  could 
hardly  realize  the  depth  of  it.  But  for  the  first 
time  she  sensed  the  promise  of  happiness  ahead. 
Her  future  was  surely  now  in  her  own  hands.  She 
still  had  much  to  live  down,  apparently,  and  that 
seemed  unjust.  But  there  must  be  some  reason 
for  it.  And  she  could  do  it.  The  very  fact  that 
she  was  willing  —  glad  —  to  go  with  Alan  wherever 
and  into  whatever  fortune  he  went  would  surely  be 
proof  enough  of  her  sincerity. 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER     243 

Presently,  coming  back  with  a  start  to  the  needs 
of  the  present,  Elsie  got  up  and  began  to  dress  for 
dinner.  She  had  recollected  that  whipped  cream 
entered  into  the  plans  for  the  .dinner  dessert.  And 
as  Ada  had  an  unpleasant  predilection  for  expedit- 
ing the  whipping  process  by  the  addition  of  white  of 
egg,  Elsie  generally  circumvented  the  situation  and 
avoided  the  necessity  for  scolding  by  whipping  the 
cream  herself. 

If  at  dinner  that  night  Alan  noticed  a  new  buoy- 
ancy in  Elsie's  manner,  or  the  light  in  her  eyes  which 
hope  and  the  promise  of  a  fighting  chance  had  given, 
he  made  no  comment  by  word  or  look.  He  was 
pleasant  and  chatty:  and  Elsie  admired  and  loved 
afresh  his  ability  to  be  this  without  sign  of  effort. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

RATHER  early  the  next  morning  Addie  called 
her.     Addie   was   much   impressed   with   the 
heavy   portent   of   events   now   transpiring   in   her 
friend's  life  and  was  loath  to  be  uninformed   for 
even  so  much  as  a  day. 

"  Hello,  kidlets,"  she  breathed  in  her  funny  little, 
mysterious  voice.  "  Alone?  " 

"  No." 

"  Oh."  Addie  apparently  reflected  a  moment. 
Then,  "  Anything  new?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Oh."     A  pause.     Then,  "  Can  you  come  over?  " 

"  Yes.  I  '11  run  over  after  luncheon,"  answered 
Elsie.  "  Had  you  planned  to  be  at  home  ?  " 

Addie  answered  in  the  affirmative  and  both  hung 
up. 

Addie  did  not  fail  to  notice  at  once  the  change, 
slight  and  indefinable  as  it  might  be,  in  Elsie's  de- 
meanor. Addie  McKeene's  mind  was  intuitive. 
Like  a  sunlit  lake  it  caught  every  passing  change  of 
shade  or  radiance.  And  so,  after  a  glance  at  her 
friend's  face,  she  smiled  in  eager  anticipation  of 
good  news.  Or  at  all  events,  better  news. 

244 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER     245 

Elsie  tossed  aside  her  hat  and  without  any  prompt- 
ing or  questioning  sat  down  and  told  her  compan- 
ion, in  detail,  of  the  happening  of  the  previous  aft- 
ernoon. She  was  curious  to  see  the  effect  of  her 
narrative  upon  Addie,  though  she  felt  she  could 
pretty  well  guess  beforehand  with  what  motive 
Addie  would  invest  Una's  visit. 

The  eagerness  died  out  of  Addie's  eyes  and  they 
grew  almost  comically  wide  as  she  listened  to  what 
Elsie  had  to  say.  Apparently  her  amazement  at 
Una's  act  was  equaled  only  by  her  surprise  at  the 
cheerful  way  in  which  Elsie  accepted  it. 

"  Well !  "  she  said  then,  after  Elsie,  having  in  her 
narrative  safely  arrived  in  her  room  and  closed  the 
door,  had  stopped  speaking.  "  She  certainly  has 
nerve!  In  the  morning-room,  too.'' 

"  I  imagine  Alan  took  her  in  there,"  surmised 
Elsie,  "  because  if  Ada  came  into  the  dining-room 
for  anything  she  could  hear  what  was  going  on  in 
the  living-room.  And  Miss  Hamby  sounded  a  little 
hysterical." 

"  Hm."  Addie  continued  to  gaze  in  a  sort  of 
meditative  surprise  at  her  friend.  "  There  's  sim- 
ply no  telling  what  a  jealous  woman  will  do,  is 
there?" 

"  Jealous  ?  "     Elsie  was  at  a  loss. 

"  Well,  she  evidently  still  is."  Addie  withdrew 
her  eyes  from  Elsie's  face  and  looked,  with  a 
thoughtful  little  smile,  out  across  the  lawn  before 


246     IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

them.  "  Is  n't  it  funny  how  contrary  things  are  ? 
Here  is  this  girl  longing  for  something  that  is  sim- 
ply thrust  upon  you,  and  that  you  Ve  decided  you 
don't  even  want."  She  gave  Elsie  a  fleeting,  half- 
roguish,  half-wistful  smile.  "  You  prefer  a  mar- 
tyr's life." 

It  was  Elsie's  turn  to  sit  and  gaze  fixedly  at  her 
friend.  It  was  all  she  could  do.  She  was  abso- 
lutely and  hopelessly  bewildered. 

"  I  suppose,"  went  on  Addie,  still  thinking  things 
out,  and  all  unconscious  of  the  state  of  her  friend's 
mind,  "  being  in  Calthorpe's  office  she  knows  all 
about  the  plan  to  get  Alan  out  of  the  way,  and  — 
and  all  it  might  mean  —  and  she  's  getting  desper- 
ate." 

She  looked  for  some  signs  of  corroboration  from 
Elsie,  but  got  only  that  wide,  questioning  stare. 

"  She  looked  almost  haggard  when  I  saw  her 
the  other  day,"  Addie  continued  reminiscently.  "  It 
just  occurred  to  me  —  You  know,  when  she  gave 
up  the  position  of  secretary  to  Willett  and  went  to 
Calthorpe,  we  thought  her  affair  with  Willett  was 
about  over.  But  perhaps  it  was  n't.  She  might 
have  left  Willett's  office  because  she  could  n't  bear 
—  you  know  —  to  see  things  just  die  out  —  The 
sentence  trailed  off.  "  Of  course," —  Addie  wrink- 
led up  her  nose  in  a  funny  little  movement  of  dis- 
taste — "  she  's  acting  in  a  horribly  catty,  underbred 
way  now.  But  —  I  suppose  it  really  was  pretty  hard 


247 

on  her  —  just  when  things  looked  hopeful.  I  im- 
agine it 's  hard  work  supporting  herself  and  her 
mother  nowadays." 

For  the  first  time  Elsie  found  her  voice.  But  she 
spoke  in  a  very  lifeless  way. 

"  Well,  but  what  can  I  do,  more  than  I  am 
doing?" 

"  Why,  honey  girl,  nothing."  Addie's  attention 
flew  back  to  her  friend  with  quick  loyalty.  "  I  'm 
not  blaming  you.  How  could  I?  You  never  ran 
after  Willett.  Heavens !  you  never  had  to !  No  — 
only  —  I  meant,  if  we  thought  of  these  things,  per- 
haps we  should  n't  hate  her  quite  so  much." 

Addie  paused,  troubled.  The  old  fretted,  haunted 
look  had  come  back  to  Elsie's  eyes,  and  Addie  was 
stricken  with  compunction.  In  her  well-meaning 
effort  to  take  a  somewhat  charitable  view  of  a 
jealous  woman's  vagaries  she  had  in  some  manner 
once  more  pulled  the  mantle  of  trouble  over  her 
friend. 

"  Don't  look  so  worried,  kidlets,"  she  implored. 
'  There  never  was  a  snarl  so  snarly  that  it  did  n't 
eventually  uncurl  and  come  out  all  right." 

Elsie  smiled  faintly,  suspecting  that  Addie's  ad- 
vice was  strictly  theoretical,  as  it  was  highly  im- 
probable that  gay  little  lady  had  ever  faced  a  snarl, 
either  of  events  or  of  anything  else. 

Elsie  walked  home  slowly  and  sadly.  In  her 
extreme  disappointment  she  was  very  bitter.  So 


248     IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

that  was  it!  And  she  had  dared  to  hope,  to  plan. 
As  if  any  chance  for  happiness  would  be  given  to 
her !  Yes  —  that  was  it.  Elsie  had  marveled  every 
time  she  thought  of  it  that  Una  should  actually  at- 
tempt to  set  forth  in  so  many  words  the  astounding 
state  of  affairs  between  herself  and  Elsie.  Doubt- 
less she  had  not.  There  was  no  need  so  to  risk 
her  reputation  for  sanity.  She  had  known  she  could 
do  better  execution  with  her  memory,  her  knowledge 
of  the  love-affairs  of  Elsie  and  Willett.  She  was 
doubly  equipped,  with  her  knowledge  of  affairs  at 
the  office,  and  her  knowledge  of  that  portion  of  El- 
sie's life  which  for  Elsie  herself  lay  in  the  darkness 
and  void  behind  them.  And  though  Alan  had  re- 
fused to  credit  her  words  or  act  upon  them,  he  had 
of  course  heard  them,  and  must  have  taken  them  into 
account. 

So  she  —  or  Una  that  was  —  had  loved  Willett, 
too.  Both  of  them  had,  it  seemed.  That  would 
account  for  the  attraction  he  had  for  her  when  in 
his  presence.  Well,  Addie  had  said  no  tangle  was 
so  bad  but  that  it  would  eventually  straighten  out. 
Perhaps  so.  But  Elsie  could  not  see  how  this  one 
could  ever  straighten  out  short  of  the  ruin  of  one 
or  two  at  least  of  the  unfortunate  participants.  As 
she  went  home  she  formally  renounced  her  sweet, 
new-born  hope.  There  was  nothing  for  her  to  do 
now  but  wait  —  and  dread  and  shrink. 

On    the    following    Saturday,    after    dinner   was 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER      249 

over,  as  Elsie  was  standing  at  the  head  of  the 
French-window  steps,  Alan  came  and  leaned  on  the 
lintel  opposite  her.  He  was  smoking  his  after-din- 
ner cigar  and  he  took  it  from  between  his  lips  and 
gazed  at  the  curling  smoke  thoughtfully.  Elsie 
knew  some  announcement  was  coming  and  her  heart 
beat  heavily, 

"  President  Calthorpe  has  been  good  enough  to 
exert  himself  for  me,"  he  said  presently.  "  By  per- 
sonal influence  he  has  obtained  for  me  what  prom- 
ises to  be  a  good  position  with  the  Rio  Grande  and 
Eastern.  They  are  beginning  a  big  cut-off  in  the 
mountains.  I  start  by  the  middle  of  the  week.  So 
we  'd  better  discuss  business  arrangements.  Of 
course,  you  can  do  as  you  like.  But  I  was  thinking 
that  perhaps  you  would  n't  care  to  keep  up  so  big 
an  establishment  as  this.  A  flat,  or  an  apartment, 
would  be  safer  for  a  woman  living  alone,  would  n't 
it?" 

"  How  are  you  going  to  live  —  where  you  're 
going?  "  asked  Elsie,  quickly. 

"  Me?  Oh,  I  shall  live  at  the  railroad  boarding- 
house,  I  expect,"  indifferently.  "  Or  very  often,  at 
the  head  of  big  jobs  like  this,  shacks  are  put  up  for 
the  engineers  and  foremen  and  their  families  —  if 
they  have  any.  If  so,  I  shall  bach.  \  've  done  that 
before.  It 's  better  than  the  boarding-house." 

"  Well."  Elsie  spoke  with  a  tremendous  effort. 
But  she  had  to  say  it.  It  was  her  last  chance. 


250     IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

"  Could  n't  you  get  one  of  those  shacks,  and  —  and 
take  your  family  ?  " 

Alan  stared  at  her  curiously.  And  finally  in 
amusement,  "  Do  you  mean  you?  " 

"  Of  course,"  with  a  forced  little  laugh.  "  I 
was  n't  aware  you  had  any  other  family." 

Alan  laughed,  too.  "  My  dear  girl,  you  don't 
know  what  you  're  talking  about !  You  could  n't 
even  imagine  such  a  life." 

"  I  could,"  maintained  Elsie,  stoutly.  "  Of 
course  I  could.  Any  woman  could.  I  know  what 
living  in  two  rooms  would  mean  —  or  just  about. 
I  'd  love  to  go,"  she  added  softly.  It  was  the  near- 
est approach  to  an  entreaty  that  she  could  come. 

"  Strange !  "  said  Alan  after  a  moment,  watching 
her  with  cool,  reflective  eyes.  "  You  were  not  con- 
tent with  this,"  with  a  movement  of  the  head  indic- 
ative of  the  house  behind  them.  "  Nor  with  any- 
thing else  of  all  that  went  to  comprise  the  most  I 
could  get  for  you.  And  yet  now  you  expect  me  to 
believe  that  you  really  want  to  live,  and  would  really 
be  content  to  live,  in  a  two-roomed  shack.  What 's 
the  idea?  I  suppose  it  would  be  easier,  and  decid- 
edly more  pleasant,  to  effect  any  radical  change  — 
of  partners,  say  —  away  from  one's  own  home  town. 
But  " —  he  looked  away  down  the  garden,  and  his 
eyelids  drooped  with  cynical  amusement  — "  I  don't 
know  whether  my  good  nature  will  stretch  that  far 
or  not." 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER      251 

It  seemed  to  Elsie  that  her  heart  stood  quite  still 
for  a  moment.  Then  she  flushed  scarlet.  Wave 
after  wave  of  color  surged  and  beat  under  the  fine 
skin;  and  the  man  across  the  doorway  from  her 
watched  the  effect  with  appreciative  eyes.  It  was 
decidedly  handsome.  Some  few  moments  passed 
before  the  choking  sensation  left  her  throat,  and  she 
could  trust  herself  to  speak.  When  she  did  the 
warm  quality  of  her  voice  was  gone.  It  was  cold 
and  hard. 

"  I  should  think  you  had  better  rent  the  house  fur- 
nished, then,"  she  observed.  "  Unless  you  want  to 
sell  it." 

"  I  think  it  would  be  a  good  idea  to  rent  it,  too," 
agreed  Alan.  "  But  not  furnished.  You  '11  need 
the  furniture." 

"  No,"  calmly.  "  I  shall  want  nothing  of  yours. 
I  think  I  shall  be  able  to  pack  up  almost  as  soon  as 
you  will.  So  you  'd  better  hunt  up  some  responsible 
agent  and  put  the  place  in  his  hands.  I  fancy  you  'd 
better  have  the  plate,  linen,  and  most  of  the  best 
china  stored.  I  don't  believe  those  things  go  with 
furnished  houses.  I  '11  see  that  they  're  packed  and 
stored  and  the  storage  receipts  can  be  sent  to  you. 
I  suppose  you  will  either  store  or  sell  the  cars,  as  you 
think  best." 

"  And  what,"  inquired  Alan  quizzically,  "  are  you 
going  to  do  ?  " 

"  Earn  my  own  living.     If  you  don't  need  a  house- 


252      IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

keeper,  that 's  an  end  of  the  matter.  I  'm  no  par- 
asite." 

"  Where  are  you  going  to  earn  it  ?  "  He  was  very 
much  amused  with  this  heroic  fit  of  temper. 

"  Oh  —  have  n't  had  time  to  think  it  over  yet," 
coldly.  "  But  I  suppose  I  shall  repair  to  that  Mecca 
of  all  those  ready  to  descend  upon  a  waiting  world 
—  New  York." 

"  Have  you  money  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

When  she  had  sold  the  offending  jewelry  to  pay 
the  dressmaker,  she  had  still  been  several  hundred 
dollars  to  the  good  after  paying  the  account.  Of 
this  she  had  spent  very  little. 

"  Well,  there  's  between  four  and  five  hundred 
in  the  checking  account,"  observed  Alan.  "  You 
can  take  that.  And  I  '11  deposit  money  regularly 
for  you  with  the  bank  here." 

He  was  quite  certain  that  she  and  Renshaw  had 
plans  to  perfect,  but  he  did  not  intend  her  to  be 
really  indebted  to  another  man  except  of  her  own 
choice,  or  until  it  was  fully  her  own  choice. 

Elsie  looked  at  him,  and  her  gaze  was  fully  as 
unflinching  as  his  own.  There  was  no  danger  of 
her  breaking  down  now. 

"  You  don't  seem  to  understand  me,"  she  said. 
"  You  can  deposit  what  you  like,  where  you  like,  but 
I  shall  not  touch  it.  I  don't  call  taking  money  from 
you  earning  my  own  living." 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER     253 

"  What,"  inquired  Alan,  still  plainly  amused,  "  do 
you  think  of  doing?  " 

"  Oh,"  she  shrugged  her  shoulders  indifferently, 
"  I  've  got  a  very  strong  voice.  I  shall  try  to  make 
use  of  that  —  hotels,  cafes,  or  anywhere.'' 

Alan  looked  almost  startled.  "  Well,  I  don't 
imagine  you  '11  like  that  at  all." 

"  No,  perhaps  not,"  unimpressed,  "  but  I  don't 
suppose  I  shall  care  one  way  or  another.  It  '11  be  all 
the  same." 

And  so  it  would,  all  the  same.  Despair  and  hu- 
miliation seemed  to  rise  in  her  throat  again  and  choke 
her.  She  turned  to  go.  And  as  she  turned  and 
faced  Alan,  she  reflected  that  this  man  —  stern,  un- 
compromising, beloved  —  held  all  her  hopes  of  hap- 
piness, and  that  it  was  he  who  sent  her  into  the 
outer  darkness  of  things  unloved  and  uncared  for. 

"  I  hope,"  she  said,  and  her  voice  was  deep  and 
quiet,  "  oh,  I  do  hope  —  that  some  day  life  will  fall 
all  about  you  like  a  house  of  cards ;  that  you  '11  be  so 
lonely  that  the  bigness  of  things  will  frighten  you. 
And  that  you  '11  hunger  for  love  and  encouragement 
and  companionship  —  and  not  get  it.  Oh,  what  ter- 
rible things  good  people  are !  I  'm  glad  I  'm  a  sin- 
ner, because  I  'm  human  and  can  understand.  I 
know  now  why  Christ  consorted  with  publicans  and 
sinners.  He  knew  they  were  human  and  could 
learn.  He  knew  that  the  Light  that  he  promised 
should  light  every  man  would  be  of  no  use  to  the 


254     IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

good  people.  They  have  the  tiny  lamp  of  their  own 
conceit  and  goodness  tacked  on  their  breasts.  How 
does  it  feel  to  be  so  good?  "  she  laughed.  "  '  Lord, 
I  thank  thee  that  I  am  not  as  these  others.' ' 

And  she  passed  into  the  house  and  went  up  to  her 
room. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

THE  next  three  days  were  very  busy  ones. 
Elsie  worked  hard  getting  things  to  rights, 
having  everything  washable  gathered  and  sent  on 
rush  special  orders  to  the  laundry,  packing  and  sort- 
ing and  discriminating.  Through  it  all  she  kept  as 
much  as  possible  out  of  Alan's  way ;  when  forced 
into  a  discussion,  business  or  otherwise,  she  was  as 
cool  and  uncompromising  as  he.  Perhaps  more  so. 
For  the  rest,  she  went  about  her  work  as  a  woman 
in  a  dream.  All  feeling  seemed  to  be  crushed  into 
a  dead  calm. 

On  the  Wednesday  forenoon  Alan  was  ready  to 
start,  and  Elsie  stood  facing  him  in  the  living-room, 
waiting  to  say  good-by.  It  seemed  as  if  the  blood 
in  her  veins  was  running  very  slowly,  as  if  all  life 
within  and  around  her,  had  slowed  down  into  a  sort 
of  stagnant  silence.  All  that  was  strong  and  liv- 
ing and  worth  while  was  centered  in  Alan,  and  he 
was  going. 

"  You  won't  forget,  will  you  ?  "  he  was  saying. 
"  When  you  leave  the  house,  if  you  do  really  decide 
to  leave  it,  hand  the  keys  over  to  Hammond  and 
James.  I  've  arranged  with  them.  Ask  for  Mr. 
Watrous." 

255 


256     IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

Elsie  nodded.  "  I  shall  remember.  Shall  I  give 
them  the  storage  receipts,  too  ?  The  linen  is  n't 
back  yet ;  but  it  '11  be  packed  by  to-morrow  night. 
And  the  piano  had  better  go,  too.  People  don't  — " 

"  Oh,  well,  the  piano  was  your  mother's  present. 
You  would  n't  want  to  rent  that,"  observed  Alan. 

"  Oh !  "  Elsie  gazed  at  it  absently. 

"  I  '11  send  you  my  address  as  soon  as  I  know 
definitely  what  it  is  to  be,"  went  on  Alan.  "  And, 
as  I  told  you,  I  '11  deposit  money  monthly  for  you." 

'  Yes  ?  "  Elsie's  smile  was  cool  almost  to  insolence. 

"  Yes.  And  —  oh,  yes  —  I  've  left  the  ready 
money  cheque  in  the  desk  for  you." 

"Thank  you,"  still  smiling. 

"  Well,"  thoughtfully,  "  I  don't  think  I  have  for- 
gotten anything.  And  if  I  have  I  can  write  it.  So 
—  for  a  time,  at  all  events  —  good-by."  He  held 
out  his  hand  with  a  pleasant  smile. 

"  Good-by."  She  put  her  hand  into  the  strong 
brown  one  for  the  first  time. 

Then  Alan  took  up  his  suit-case,  gave  one  last 
contemplative  glance  round  him,  which  took  in  the 
room  and  the  woman  before  him,  and  went. 

For  many  minutes  Elsie  stood  where  he  had  left 
her,  hands  folded  before  her,  head  slightly  bent. 
Then  she  went  up  to  her  room,  closed  the  door 
quietly  behind  her,  sank  down  on  the  bed  and  de- 
livered herself  up  to  a  perfect  desolation  of  grief. 
She  let  furies  of  rage  and  grief  possess  her  and 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER      257 

made  not  the  slightest  effort  to  control  them.  She 
did  not  even  care  to,  but  tossed  and  sobbed  in  a  de- 
lirium of  abandon.  When  the  light  grew  painful 
to  tear-inflamed  eyes,  she  rose  and  drew  the  shades ; 
and  then  went  back  to  the  hopeless,  steady  weeping. 

And  when  Ada  came  up  to  know  whether  she 
would  have  some  lunch  brought  up  to  her,  she  called 
the  girl  into  the  darkened  room  and  gave  very  ex- 
plicit commands.  If  Mrs.  McKeene  called  up  she 
was  to  say  that  Mrs.  Leland  had  a  bad  headache  and 
would  call  her  later.  If  any  one  else  called  she  was 
to  say  that  Mrs.  Leland  was  indisposed.  No  one 
was  to  be  allowed  to  see  her  —  no  one.  Neither 
was  she  on  any  consideration  to  bring  up  any  one's 
card  or  a  request  for  admission.  This  was  a  pre- 
caution against  Renshaw,  and  was  well  taken.  For 
he  called  up  the  next  day,  and  learning  that  Elsie 
was  indisposed,  drove  out  at  once  and  wished  to 
see  her.  But  Ada,  though  very  much  embarrassed, 
stood  firm.  Renshaw  had  to  content  himself  with 
leaving  a  cryptic  message. 

By  the  second  day  after  Alan's  departure,  Elsie 
had  fretted  and  sobbed  herself  into  a  high  fever. 
She  was  almost  delirious  with  grief;  but  her  light- 
headed, weak  condition  did  not  alarm  her  in  the 
least.  She  was  glad.  She  would  be  glad  to  die. 

But  she  did  not  die,  nor  come  anywhere  near  it. 
Perhaps  if  outside  complications  had  been  allowed 
to  enter  she  might  have  managed  a  serious  illness. 


258     IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

But  she  was  alone  with  Mother  Nature,  who  never 
loses  her  own.  And  so,  on  the  afternoon  of  the 
third  day,  when  anger  and  grief  and  rebellion  had 
been  given  a  full  chance  to  burn  themselves  out,  the 
tired  woman  was  put  into  the  deep  sleep  of  exhaus- 
tion. In  this  sleep  she  remained  until  well  into  the 
next  morning.  Then  she  wakened,  weak  but  healed. 
She  felt  like  a  burned-out  volcano  —  a  cold,  empty 
shell  of  a  woman  —  but  hopelessly  well.  So  she 
arose  and  went  about  her  business. 

Hardly  able  to  conjure  up  interest  in  the  matter, 
she  sent  to  the  packing  and  storage  company  for  a 
man  to  pack  the  silver,  china,  and  linen.  The  piano, 
too,  was  boxed  and  taken  to  the  storage  rooms. 
This  left  her  only  her  own  packing  to  do,  and  of  that 
much  was  already  accomplished. 

She  found  that  Alan  had  left  her  a  cheque  for  five 
hundred  dollars.  Out  of  this  she  paid  Ada  an  extra 
month's  wages,  and  paid  the  storage  man.  The  re- 
mainder she  placed  back  in  Alan's  account  at  the 
bank. 

On  the  Tuesday  following  Alan's  departure,  she 
sent  her  trunk  and  suit-case  down  to  the  railway  sta- 
tion, sent  for  Hammond  &  James's  representative,  to 
whom  she  handed  the  keys  of  the  place,  then  went 
round  to  say  good-by  to  Addie. 

She  had  called  that  secretly  curious  little  lady  up 
several  times  in  the  interim,  promising  to  be  over 
very  shortly,  but  had  breathed  not  a  word  of  her  in 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER     259 

tended  departure.  She  did  not  want  Addie  to  be 
obliged  to  keep  a  secret,  and  she  was  determined 
not  to  see  Renshaw  again.  As  the  time  drew  near 
for  her  to  cut  adrift  from  all  she  knew,  to  launch 
herself  into  a  new  life  in  a  strange  city,  she  felt  hor- 
ribly alone  and  hopeless.  Not  afraid,  for  she  no 
longer  had  anything  to  lose.  Willett  Renshaw  could 
be  very  gentle  and  tender  when  he  wished  to,  and 
he  generally  did  wish  to  with  her.  He  would  offer 
any  arrangement  she  liked  to  name  or  think  of  — 
he  had  —  in  order  to  get  back  the  woman  who  was 
slipping  from  him.  This  was  partly  the  reason  for 
his  persistence  and  patience  in  her  case.  Elsie  felt, 
too,  that  she  was  not  deceiving  herself  when  she  be- 
lieved that  he  was  really  fond  of  her.  It  was  this  — 
this  fondness  —  that  she  dared  not  face. 

Addie  McKeene  noted  her  friend's  expression  as 
she  entered,  and  then  welcomed  her  with  greater  af- 
fection than  usual. 

"  Bad  girl !  Where  's  oo  been  ?  "  she  fussed  play- 
fully. "  All  dolled  up,  too.  On  your  way  to 
town?" 

"  No,  not  yet,"  answered  Elsie,  smiling,  and  pull- 
ing off  the  small  hat  she  had  chosen  to  travel  in. 
"  But  after  I  Ve  spent  an  hour  or  two  with  you, 
I  '11  let  you  get  out  the  electric  and  take  me  to  the 
train,  if  you  will." 

"  Train !  "  echoed  Addie.  "  Are  you  going  to 
follow  Allan  so  soon,  then?  " 


260     IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

"  No,"  smiling.  "  I  'm  going  in  the  opposite  di- 
rection." 

"  Oh !     Going  to  your  mother  ?  " 

Elsie  shook  her  head  slowly  from  side  to  side. 
Addie  did  not  ask  any  further  questions,  but  as  she 
sat  and  stared  at  her  friend  she  was  one  big  interro- 
gation point,  and  Elsie's  smile  deepened. 

"  No,"  she  continued,  "  I  'm  going  to  New  York 
to  make  me  one  big  fortune." 

Addie  gasped  and  sat  on  in  staring  silence. 

"  I  did  n't  tell  you  about  it  before  because  I  did  n't 
want  to  place  you  in  any  sort  of  uncomfortable  posi- 
tion," went  on  Elsie.  "  Willett  might  think  you 
ought  to  have  told  him." 

"  Well  —  Are  n't  you  going  to  see  him  again  be- 
fore you  go  ?  "  burst  out  Addie. 

"  No,"  shaking  her  head  with  an  air  of  finality. 

Displeasure  and  disappointment  showed  plainly 
on  Addie's  face.  It  was  always  so  when  Elsie's 
treatment  of  Renshaw  was  the  subject  of  either  dis- 
cussion or  thought.  For  Addie  was  disappointed  — 
a  greater  disappointment  than  often  entered  her 
blithe  life.  Greatly  would  she  have  liked  to  see  her 
favorite  friend  Renshaw's  wife,  for  then  could  the 
old  companionship  and  community  of  interest,  which 
the  entrance  of  Alan  Leland  had  broken  and  some- 
times almost  dispelled,  be  reestablished.  To  this  end 
had  Addie  welcomed  the  first  sure  signs  of  Renshaw's 
deep  infatuation  for  Elsie,  had  fostered  and  abetted 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER     261 

it  —  always,  to  do  her  justice,  with  the  secret  con- 
viction that  it  was  all  ultimately  for  Elsie's  hap- 
piness; or  perhaps  it  would  be  better  to  say  a  way 
out  of  unhappiness.  From  her  point  of  view,  Addie 
considered  that  Renshaw's  treatment  of  Elsie  had 
always  been  generous  and  fair. 

Elsie  noticed  the  displeased  tightening  of  the  lips 
of  the  small,  amiable  mouth.  She  drew  her  fav- 
orite stool  forward  and  sat  near  Addie's  knees. 

"  Don't  judge,  Addie,"  she  said  gently.  "  Don't 
even  try  to.  You  could  n't  unless  you  knew  all.  I 
can't  tell  you  now.  You  would  n't  believe  if  I  did. 
You  'd  only  think  —  But  some  day  I  shall  tell  you. 
I  want  to,  because  you  've  been  one  of  the  best  lit- 
tle friends  a  woman  could  have.  You  've  stuck  to 
me  through  good  and  ill  repute." 

"  Well,  why  should  n't  I  ?  "  Addie  adopted  an  air 
of  bravado  to  cover  a  threatened  serious  loss  of  com- 
posure. "  Did  n't  I  always  know  that  the  ill  repute 
was  only  repute  ?  Mother  Grundy  's  a  very  cross- 
eyed old  lady  most  of  the  time.  She  generally  sees 
only  half  the  game  —  and  that  half  never  the 
woman's." 

"  I  know.  But  lots  of  women  will  drop  a  friend 
if  —  if  she  gets  talked  about.  It's  all  right  until 
then,"  said  Elsie  softly. 

"  Not  if  they  're  really  friends,  they  won't,"  main- 
tained Addie,  stoutly.  "  Especially  if  they  know 
it 's  only  talk," 


262      IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

"  Well,  I  've  done  foolish  things,  and  weak  things, 
and  —  and  wrong  things,"  Elsie  went  on,  tentatively. 
She  was  hungrily  seeking  some  slight  comforting 
assurance  now,  at  the  eleventh  hour.  "  But  —  but 
not  really  bad  things  —  ever  —  have  I,  Addie?" 

"Why,  of  course  not!''  Addie  looked  at  her 
in  surprise.  "  No :  if  you  had  been  the  kind  that  did 
that  sort  of  thing  you  'd  have  been  exceedingly  care- 
ful of  appearances.  They  always  are.  I  guess  most 
of  the  things  you  did  have  been  right  under  my  eagle 
eye.  I  'm  ready  to  stand  right  up  in  meeting  " — 
for  once  the  amiable  Addie  looked  almost  belligerent, 
as  if  she  really  faced  that  worldly  tribunal  of  which 
they  spoke  — "  right  up  in  meeting,  and  tell  the  world 
that  you  're  a  straighter  woman,  really,  than  most  of 
those  that  turned  their  backs." 

For  the  moment  Addie  really  did  hate  that  world 
that  had  always  been  so  lenient  and  indulgent  to 
her  own  fun-loving  self.  She  considered  that  in 
some  impalpable  and  not  altogether  understood  way 
it  had  been  instrumental  in  vanquishing  her  friend. 
She  stared  very  hard,  almost  fiercely,  before  her  for 
a  few  seconds;  and  then  her  eyes  fell,  and  she  swal- 
lowed desperately  at  something  that  rose  in  her 
throat. 

Then  the  two  women  fell  hurriedly  to  talking  of 
the  most  comfortable  traveling-dress,  of  renting  the 
home,  of  the  possibility  of  engaging  Ada  for  a 
friend  of  Addie's  —  of  anything  and  everything  they 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER      263 

could  think  of.  But  it  was  hard  work.  For  what 
they  might  not  talk  of  lay  between  them,  a  veiled 
something  that  could  not  be  forgotten.  And  al- 
though Addie's  bright,  dark  eyes  filled  with  tears 
as  she  put  her  friend  on  the  east-bound  train  and 
said  good-by  —  still,  in  a  way,  it  was  a  relief  to 
both  when  it  was  all  over. 

Elsie  lay  wide  awake  in  her  berth  through  the 
droning,  purring  night,  and  thought.  No,  she  did 
not  trouble  to  think.  Things  just  came  and  pre- 
sented themselves  to  her.  She  had  reached  the 
place  where  all  must  eventually  come  who  would  see 
far  or  straight,  to  where  she  was  completely  de- 
tached from  things  and  times  and  places.  As  if 
from  some  vantage-point  she  looked  and  saw  how 
conditions  and  circumstances  form  like  sand  shapes 
round  an  individual,  and  dissolve  and  reform  and 
dissolve  again,  and  only  the  individual  remains.  She 
glanced  back  at  the  scenes  through  which  she  had 
come.  All  gone  —  but  still  she  was.  Now  the  only 
real  things  seemed  to  be  herself  and  the  aching  need 
at  her  heart.  She  did  not  know  yet  that  this  need 
had  to  be  or  she  could  not  persist. 

Elsie  had  always  wished  to  see  New  York;  now 
as  she  drove  out  into  it  she  did  not  even  trouble  to 
look  at  it.  It  was  just  another  scene.  Having  con- 
sulted the  conductor  on  the  train,  she  went  straight 
to  a  good  second-class  hotel. 

Those  who  have  nothing  to  lose  have  also  noth- 


264      IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

ing  to  fear.  And  seeing  that  the  things  most  people 
fear  are  objects  primarily  of  their  own  setting  up, 
a  person  entirely  devoid  of  fear  is  a  person  to  be 
reckoned  with.  To  Elsie  it  all  suddenly  appeared 
very  simple.  She  simply  had  to  decide  what  she 
wanted  to  do  —  and  do  it. 

She  bought  three  or  four  of  the  best-known  dra- 
matic papers,  looked  up  the  office  whereabouts  of 
the  manager  of  the  biggest  vaudeville  circuit  she 
knew  of,  consulted  the  hotel  clerk  as  to  the  car  lines 
and  general  directions,  and  went  there.  Because  she 
was  beautifully  dressed,  handsome,  and  had  a 
straight,  serene  way  of  looking  at  one  —  and  might, 
therefore,  already  be  a  star  —  she  was  admitted  into 
the  manager's  august  presence.  The  presence  was 
encased  in  a  small,  stuffy  inner  office. 

"  I  want  to  know  where  you  get  your  best  acts," 
she  inquired  gently. 

The  manager  cast  a  sharp  glance  at  her.  "  I  don't 
get  'em,"  he  responded  shortly.  "  They  bring  their 
act  and  come  here  and  we  give  'em  a  try-out. 
What's  your  act?" 

"  I  have  n't  one  yet,"  replied  Elsie,  sweetly.  "  I 
want  to  get  one.  That 's  why  I  wanted  to  know 
which  place  turns  out  the  best." 

The  manager  would  have  scowled  if  she  had  been 
less  handsome.  "  I  'm  no  information  bureau,"  he 
observed  sulkily. 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER      265 

"  No,  but  you  have  the  best  information  of  this 
kind.  And  I  did  n't  know  how  else  to  get  it," 
elucidated  Elsie,  simply. 

The  manager  snatched  an  envelop  to  him,  and 
scribbled  on  the  back  of  it.  Since  she  had  already 
wasted  his  time  he  might  as  well  give  her  the  in- 
formation she  wanted. 

He  handed  her  the  envelop.  "  Go  to  him,"  he 
commanded.  "  He  '11  fix  you  up  if  there  's  any- 
thing in  you.  And  when  he  has  you  can  tell  him 
to  send  you  to  me  first.  You  've  got  nerve  and 
looks.  That 's  something." 

Elsie  went  to  the  address  indicated.  But  she 
never  went  back  to  the  circuit  manager.  The  coach 
in  question  had  received  a  frantic  appeal  from  the 
Sicilienne  Quartette,  whose  second  soprano  had  just 
been  lost  by  sudden  marriage.  So  he  tried  Elsie's 
voice,  inquired  very  particularly  about  her  wardrobe, 
took  a  big  fee,  and  popped  her  into  the  place  of  the 
lost  one.  He  gave  her  four  or  five  pieces  of  music. 

"  These  are  what  they  '11  sing  to-night,"  he  said. 
"  Go  home,  and  do  the  best  you  can  with  them. 
Then  be  at  the  orchestra  dressing-room  of  the  Hotel 
de  Lys  at  six  o'clock  sharp.  Never  mind  if  you 
can't  sing  much  to-night.  Dress  your  swellest  and 
do  your  best.  Being  a  good-looker  's  half  the  bat- 
tle." 

He  smiled  —  a  crisp,  acid  sort  of  smile  which 


266     IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

gave  the  impression  that  the  experience  from  which 
he  spoke  had  in  its  day  been  also  etched  in  with 
acid. 

"  The  other  half  is  giving  the  people  what  they 
want.  Don't  think  you  're  going  to  teach  the  peo- 
ple what  they  ought  to  like.  They  won't  have  it. 
They  think  they  know.  Find  out  what  they  already 
like,  and  give  'em  that." 

And  Elsie  hearkened  and  gave  close  heed  to  these 
words  of  wisdom. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

SO  it  came  to  pass  that  early  the  following  year 
Eugene  Calthorpe,  president  of  the  L.  S.  &  E. 
Railroad,  sat  at  dinner  in  the  grill-room  of  one  of 
the  biggest  hotels  in  Denver.  He  had  arrived  a 
few  hours  before  and,  having  eaten  a  good  dinner, 
sat  sipping  his  liqueur  with  thoughtful  appreciation 
and  comfort.  He  heard,  because  he  could  not  help 
it  and  not  because  he  paid  any  particular  attention, 
the  remarks  of  two  young  men  at  a  table  near  him. 

"  They  're  swell  dressers  and  swell  lookers,  all 
right,"  observed  one,  presumably  anent  the  musical 
performers.  "  The  blonde  on  the  end  takes  my 
eye." 

"  Little  too  washed  out,"  objected  the  other. 
"  Like  a  little  more  color  in  mine.  Wonder  if  it 's 
possible  to  - 

"  No,  it  is  n't,"  interjected  the  first  speaker,  with 
a  slight  laugh.  "  Management  won't  stand  for  it. 
Tried  it,  so  I  know." 

The  singers  finished  a  concerted  number  and  re- 
ceived what  for  a  grill  was  generous  applause.  Cal- 
thorpe was  no  musician,  and  as  far  as  he  was  con- 
cerned the  music  was  easily  all  right.  He  glanced 

267 


268     IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

casually  across  at  the  palm-fringed  orchestral  plat- 
form, then  straightened  up  and  looked  again.  Then 
he  beckoned  the  waiter  to  him  and  spoke  in  a  low 
voice. 

"  One  of  the  quartet  ladies  is  a  friend  of  mine. 
Is  it  possible  to  get  a  card  to  her?  " 

The  waiter  knew  him  and  was  deferential  and 
embarrassed.  "  I  'm  afraid  not,  sir.  The  ladies 
don't  like  it.  The  management — " 

Calthorpe  took  out  one  of  his  cards.  "  Take 
that  to  the  manager,"  he  commanded.  "  And  then, 
if  he  '11  permit  it,  take  it  to  the  lady  in  the  brown 
fur  and  cream  silk.  I  '11  attend  to  you  later." 

Somewhat  troubled,  the  waiter  glanced  round  at 
his  tables  and  then  hurried  away.  A  few  minutes 
later  a  page  offered  the  card  to  Elsie  as  she  sat  in 
the  little  orchestra  dressing-room.  She  took  it  with 
a  slight,  involuntary  frown,  which,  however,  van- 
ished as  she  read  the  name. 

"  I  '11  be  in  the  ladies'  room  at  the  side  of  the 
lobby  after  the  last  performance,"  she  said. 

Much  relieved,  on  receipt  of  this  information,  the 
waiter  hurried  with  it  to  Calthorpe,  adding  the  item 
that  the  last  performance  for  the  quartet  was  at  ten 
o'clock.  For  his  trouble  he  was  told,  on  presenting 
the  dinner  check,  to  keep  the  change  from  a  ten- 
dollar  bill.  In  the  meantime  Calthorpe  waited  in 
his  seat  at  the  table  for  another  appearance  of  the 
quartet. 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER     269 

The  order  of  the  musical  program  was  ensemble 
vocal,  orchestral  selection,  and  then  vocal  solo;  and 
it  happened  this  evening  that  Elsie  took  the  first 
solo.  Calthorpe  frowned  slightly  as  she  came  on 
in  her  close-clinging  gown  of  silk,  the  lights  shin- 
ing on  the  wonderfully  clear  skin  —  so  clear  that 
it  seemed  as  if  the  flowing  blood  and  life  shone 
through  in  faint  glow  and  bloom. 

Elsie  had  taken  well  to  heart  the  agent's  early 
advice.  If  all  aspiring  young  singers  would  take 
seasoned  advice  as  she  had,  there  would  be  fewer 
heartbreaks  in  the  profession.  She  never  attempted 
songs  calling  for  delicate  shading  and  work,  either 
enunciatory  or  vocal.  Such  were  lost  amid  the 
noises  of  a  dining-room.  She  trusted  to  sensuous 
beauty  of  melody  and  never  sang  anything  not  re- 
plete with  that;  and  as  her  powerful  voice  carried 
easily,  she  was  assured  at  all  times  of  a  fair  meas- 
ure of  success.  She  sang  "  La  Paloma  "  to-night, 
and  was  called  back  to  repeat  it.  She  did  not  notice 
the  man  watching  her  from  the  table  a  little  in  front 
of  her,  for,  contrary  to  the  habit  of  many  grill  sing- 
ers, Elsie  made  it  a  rule  never  to  inspect  her  au- 
diences. She  sang  with  faintly  smiling  lips,  and 
eyes  that  looked  beyond  and  away.  And  there  was 
a  freedom  of  movement,  an  indifference,  in  the  easy 
poise,  that  almost  disarmed  criticism.  She  was 
above  criticism  and  she  looked  it. 

Calthorpe  heard  with  inward  discomfort  and  dis- 


270     IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

approval  the  appraising,  even  if  complimentary,  re- 
marks of  the  men  about  him,  especially  those  unac- 
companied by  women.  When  Elsie  had  finished  her 
singing  he  left  the  grill-room. 

Her  evening  gown  covered  with  a  big,  quiet-toned 
cloak,  Elsie  appeared  a  few  minutes  after  ten.  She 
had  with  her  the  three  other  members  of  the  quar- 
tet. She  held  out  her  hand  to  Calthorpe  with  a 
smile  of  real  friendliness  and  pleasure. 

"  I  'm  so  glad  to  see  you!  "  she  said  simply  and 
unaffectedly.  "  I  do  think  it  was  nice  of  you  to 
remember  me." 

"  Why  you  're  not  the  kind  that  one  forgets  eas- 
ily," explained  Calthorpe,  prompt  and  smilingly. 

Elsie  turned  to  the  three  women  a  little  in  the 
background.  "  I  want  you  to  meet  my  three  pro- 
fessional sisters,  Mr.  Calthorpe,"  she  said.  "  We 
have  a  cast-iron  rule  that  we  all  go  home  together, 
and  I  'm  asking  a  special  dispensation  for  to-night.'1 

Calthorpe  smiled  and  looked  with  real  cordiality  at 
these  women,  who  were  conducting  their  lives  so 
competently  and  well.  "  It 's  a  case  of  the  old  home 
town,"  he  explained  with  reference  to  Elsie's  clos- 
ing statement.  "  We  '11  go  up  on  the  balcony  and 
talk  solidly  for  an  hour  or  so.  And  then  I  '11  bring 
her  safely  home." 

The  Sicilienne  sisters  professed  perfect  sympathy 
with  the  situation,  chatted  a  few  minutes,  then  went 
on  their  way.  Calthorpe  turned  back  to  Elsie. 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER     271 

"  I  never  even  went  through  the  formality  of  ask- 
ing whether  you  cared  to  spend  an  hour  or  so  chat- 
ting with  me,"  he  said.  When  he  liked  any  one,  or 
was  interested  —  which  came  to  the  same  thing  — 
he  had  a  very  gentle,  intimate,  understanding  way 
about  him.  Elsie  was  conscious  of  a  pleasant, 
warming  glow  of  friendliness.  She  rather  won- 
dered what  he  wanted  to  talk  about,  and  could  not 
help  thinking  of  Una  Ham  by  in  connection  with  him. 
Even  so,  she  was  no  longer  afraid.  There  was  noth- 
ing for  Una  to  take  from  her  now.  All  she  had  at 
present  she  had  created  herself;  she  did  not  think 
it  could  be  taken  from  her. 

"  Of  course  I  want  to  talk,"  she  declared  quickly. 

"  Well,  shall  we  go  up  and  sit  on  the  balcony?  " 
queried  Calthorpe.  "  It 's  open  and  yet  quiet." 

Elsie  nodded  willingly  and  they  went  toward  the 
broad  marble  steps  at  the  far  end  of  the  lobby.  The 
balcony  ran  along  one  end  and  a  side  of  the  lobby. 
It  was  wide,  and  palm-lined  and  deeply  carpeted,  and 
filled  with  cozy  chairs.  In  spite  of  its  openness,  on 
account  of  the  hum  from  the  lobby  down  below,  a 
conversation  could  be  carried  on  with  complete 
privacy. 

When  they  were  seated  in  the  far  corner  of  the 
balcony,  and  Elsie  had  loosened  her  cloak  and  was 
otherwise  comfortably  ensconced  for  the  chat,  Cal- 
thorpe leaned  slightly  forward  and  smiled  engag- 
ingly. 


272      IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

"  You  know,  Mrs.  Leland,  unless  you  put  a  quietus 
on  me,  I  shall  ask  an  unconscionable  lot  of  ques- 
tions. 

"  All  right,"  smiled  Elsie. 

"  In  a  way  you  can  blame  yourself  for  it,"  he 
went  on.  And  then  in  answer  to  Elsie's  look  of 
inquiry,  "  When  you  came  to  see  me  that  afternoon 
—  may  I  refer  to  it?"  Elsie  nodded  instantly. 
"  Well,  you  interested  me  very  much.  I  saw  you 
were  putting  up  a  brave  fight.  And  then  —  I  've 
always  thought  a  great  deal  of  Alan.  I  've  often 
thought  of  both  of  you  since  —  I've  been  able  to 
follow  Alan's  doings  more  or  less  completely  through 
his  work;  but  I  lost  you.  Therefore  I  'm  just  old 
lady  enough  to  have  been  delighted  when  I  saw  you 
this  evening.  And  now,"  he  smiled  warningly  — 
"  may  I  begin  the  cross-examination  ?  " 

"  Yes."  Elsie  laughed  interestedly.  "  I  '11  en- 
deavor to  keep  my  wits  about  me." 

"  Well,  then,  what  is  the  meaning  of  all  this  ?  " 

"  You  mean  —  my  working  for  my  living  ?  "  in- 
quired Elsie. 

"  Yes." 

"  Oh,  well !  "  She  was  slightly  taken  aback  for 
an  answer.  "  Why,  it  was  the  only  thing  —  the  only 
self-respecting  thing  —  to  do." 

"  Are  you  and  Alan  separated,  then  ?  "  Calthorpe 
made  no  apology  for  so  personal  a  question,  but 
studied  attentively  the  face  before  him. 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER     273 

"  Oh,  no,"  quickly.  "  That  is  —  we  are  by  dis- 
tance, of  course.  But —  If  you  mean —  Not 
legally." 

"  Oh !     Why  did  n't  you  go  west  with  him?  " 

"  He  did  n't  want  me  to,"  simply. 

"Did  you  want  to?" 

"  More  than  I  had  ever  wanted  anything  in  my 
life."  Having  once  confided  in  him,  Elsie  seemed  to 
feel  quite  at  home  with  this  man.  Besides,  nothing 
could  come  of  disguising  matters,  anyway.  "  But 
it 's  not  his  fault  that  I  'm  doing  this,"  she  hastened 
to  add.  "  He  is  perfectly  willing  to  support  me. 
And  for  the  rest,  you  can't  blame  him.  It  was 
inevitable  that  his  trust  in  me  should  be  broken.  I 
could  not  expect  him  to  have  any  confidence  in  my 
motives." 

She  spoke  so  openly  and  had  such  a  serene,  almost 
noble,  way  with  her  that  Calthorpe  was  puzzled. 

"  You  know,"  he  said,  with  a  slight  shake  of  the 
head,  "  in  spite  of  what  you  yourself  told  me,  I  can 
hardly  believe  that  you  ever  really  did  anything  so  — 
so  terrible  after  all." 

"  Well,  that 's  it,  you  see  —  I  don't  actually 
know."  She  sighed  a  little.  "I  —  Oh,  I  just  don't 
know,  that 's  all."  She  looked  down  into  the  lobby, 
and  in  her  eyes  was  a  sort  of  accustomed  patience 
that  somehow  warred  with  the  look  of  impetuous 
livingness  that  was  characteristic  of  her. 

Calthorpe  looked  hard  at  her.     Apart  from  the 


274      IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

personal  interest  he  felt,  here  was  a  problem  in 
human  psychology  far  too  inviting  to  leave. 

"  Mrs.  Leland,"  he  said  in  quaint  desperation, 
"  have  pity  on  me.  You  know  I  confessed  to  being 
an  old  lady.  Just  think  how  you  have  aroused  my 
.curiosity.  I  can't  even  guess  what  you  mean." 

Elsie's  eyes  came  back  from  the  lobby,  and  she 
smiled.  "  Well,  but  I  said  I  would  answer  any  ques- 
tion—  if  I  could."  This  last  out  of  deference  to  a 
sudden  thought.  "  Any  question  "  was  very  sweep- 
ing. 

Calthorpe  took  due  notice  of  the  addition.  He 
left  her  last  puzzling  statement  alone  for  a  while. 
Sometimes  the  longest  way  round  was  the  only  way. 

"  Does  Alan  write  to  you?  "  he  asked. 

"  No." 

"  Did  he  know  that  you  —  came  to  see  me  that 
time?" 

"Oh,  no,  indeed!" 

"  Does  he  know  that  you  're  doing  this  ?  "  with  a 
wave  of  the  hand  down  toward  the  grill. 

"  I  don't  suppose  so." 

"  Did  n't  he  write  to  you  at  all  after  leaving  for 
the  West?" 

"  He  may  have.  I  did  n't  leave  any  forwarding 
address.  And  I  told  the  bank  to  notify  him  that  the 
money  he  sent  lay  there." 

"  Dear  me!  "  Calthorpe  lifted  his  brows  quizzi- 
cally. 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER     275 

"  Well/'  flushing  slightly,  "  I  did  n't  want  his 
money  if  he  did  n't  —  did  n't  want  me." 

"  Well,  but  that 's  —  let 's  see  —  eight  months  ago 
now,  about,  isn't  it?"  She  nodded.  "How  do 
you  know  he  does  n't  want  you  now  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  know,"  with  a  queer  little  smile. 

"  Well  — "  Calthorpe  looked  as  if  he  did  not  un- 
reservedly accept  this.  But  he  let  it  drop  for  the 
time  being. 

"  Mrs.  Leland,"  he  said  then,  "  have  you  a  friend 
—  a  tried  and  trusted  friend  —  in  whom  you  can 
confide  and  whose  judgment  you  trust?  " 

Elsie  shook  her  head  decidedly.  "  No.  Oh,  I 
have  a  friend  —  but —  Not  as  to  the  good  judg- 
ment part." 

"  Have  n't  you  ever  talked  this  —  your  affairs 
over  with  any  one?  —  any  one  at  all?  " 

"  No  one  at  all  since  I  left  home.  Only  partially 
-  I  mean,  just  what  they  knew  of  —  before  1  went 
away." 

"I  thought  so,"  confidently.  "There's  a  look- 
in  your  eyes  that  tells  me  you  have  n't  unburdened  to 
any  one.  And  you  need  to.  Yes,  positively  need 
to."  He  looked  intently  at  her  and  his  smile  was 
very  kindly.  "  We  all  have  to,  sooner  or  later.  It's 
a  human  necessity.  More  —  a  psychological  neces- 
sity. I  see  you  have  won  out  in  the  fight  you  made. 
But  still  —  I  can  see  everything  is  far  from  right 
yet.  A  third  party  is  needed  here.  I  believe  I  could 


276     IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

help  you.  I  know  I  want  to.  Could  n't  you  trust 
me?" 

"  Oh,  I  do  trust  you !  "  declared  Elsie  quickly  and 
truthfully.  She  did.  Once  you  approached  near 
enough  to  him,  there  was  no  mistaking  the  clean, 
understanding  heart  of  this  man. 

"  Well,  then,"  with  his  pleasant  smile,  "  suppose 
we  talk  things  over.  You  tell  me  your  view  of  the 
case.  Begin  at  the  beginning  of  the  trouble,  what- 
ever it  is.  And  don't  ever  think  that  I  shall  presume 
to  sit  in  judgment.  I  only  want  to  help." 

Elsie's  lip  quivered  very  slightly.  She  had  never 
confided  in  any  one,  of  course.  It  was  the  last  thing 
she  had  ever  dreamed  of  doing.  But,  when  he  spoke 
of  it,  she  knew  what  a  relief  it  would  really  be  to  be 
able  to  talk  to  some  one  of  that  which  was  slowly 
freezing  her  heart  up.  But  she  shook  her  head. 
"  I  'm  afraid,"  she  said,  smiling  wistfully. 

"  Afraid?  "  he  echoed.     She  nodded. 

«  But  — "     He  was  astonished.     "  What  of  ?  " 

"Oh-h — "  She  hesitated.  But  he  was  look- 
ing straight  at  her.  "  Of  —  of  having  people  think 
I  'm  the  victim  of — " 

"Well?  "he  urged. 

"  Of  hallucinations,"  she  finished  with  a  jerk. 

"  My  dear  little  girl !  "  Calthorpe  was  hopelessly 
puzzled.  And  amazed.  "  Yes,  you  certainly  need 
help.  But  —  tell  me  what  you  mean."  Then  as  she 
still  sat  silently  gazing  at  him,  he  added,  almost  im- 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER     277 

patiently,  "  Surely  you  can't  think  I  'd  want  to  harm 
you!" 

"  No.  Oh,  no  —  you  would  n't  want  to  harm  me 
—  only—" 

"Well  — only  what?" 

"  Only  you  might  think  it  was  for  my  good  to  — 
to  — "  She  gave  an  uneasy  little  laugh.  "  Oh,  I  've 
always  felt  that,  as  long  as  no  one  knew,  I  was  safe." 

Calthorpe  gazed  at  her  with  mingled  feelings. 
But  he  was  more  than  ever  determined  not  to  let 
this  woman  go  until  she  was  at  least  on  the  road  to 
healing. 

"  Suppose,"  he  said  gently,  "  I  give  you  my  solemn 
word  that  after  you  've  told  me  —  whatever  it  is  you 
have  to  tell  me  —  that  I  '11  neither  take  the  least  step 
in  any  direction,  nor  breathe  of  it  to  a  soul  in  the 
world,  without  your  permission.  How  would  that 
be?" 

Elsie  looked  at  him,  an  eagerness  growing  in  her 
heart.  "  It  would  take  some  time  to  tell,"  she  de- 
murred. 

"  Our  time  is  our  own  at  present,"  he  said  quietly. 
Then  repeated  with  a  smile,  "  Begin  at  the  begin- 
ning." 

"  I  could  only  begin  at  the  morning  after  the  acci- 
dent," she  said  hesitatingly,  still  afraid,  when  all  was 
said  and  done,  to  dig  out  her  secret. 

"  Well,  begin  wherever  you  can  best.  Come,"  he 
encouraged.  "  You  Ve  been  so  courageous  all 


through.     Begin  as  if  you  were  telling  the  story  of 
another." 

"  And  I  have  your  promise  to  —  to  forget  it  all 
—  entirely  —  if  I  want  you  to?  " 

"  You  have,  absolutely,"  gravely.  "  Now,  don't 
leave  anything  out.  Just  pretend  I  'm  the  lawyer  — 
or  the  doctor  —  in  the  case." 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

AT  first  Elsie  hesitated  as  she  began  her  story. 
She  had  to  be  prompted  with  judicious  ques- 
tioning here  and  there.  After  she  was  inevitably 
committed  to  her  disclosures,  and  as  she  began  to 
live  again  in  her  own  mind  the  events  as  she  recalled 
them,  she  talked  simply  and  quietly.  Her  eyes 
looked  at  the  teeming  lobby,  but  they  were  the  eyes 
of  a  woman  whose  mind  was  far  elsewhere. 

Calthorpe  glanced  at  her  from  time  to  time.  For 
the  most  part  he  listened  with  his  eyes  on  the  floor. 
He  was  following  her  very  intently,  and  an  intent 
gaze  might  distract  her  thought  and  memory.  As  it 
was,  she  was  telling  a  very  connected  story,  neither 
exaggerating  nor  glossing  anything  as  it  had  seemed 
to  her.  She  told  of  her  first  meeting  with  Alan ;  of 
her  visits  to  Una  in  the  hospital;  of  her  meetings 
with  Renshaw ;  even  of  her  housekeeping  difficulties. 

After  she  had  brought  her  story  up  to  the  time  of 
Alan's  departure  for  the  West,  she  paused  and  looked 
at  Calthorpe  for  the  first  time. 

"  Go  on,"  he  smiled.  "  You  are  not  up  to  the 
present  yet." 

So  she  told  of  her  journey  to  New  York,  and  of 
the  incidents  —  most  unimportant  —  leading  up 

279 


280     IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

to   the  present.     Then   she  could  wait  no  longer. 

"  Now  tell  me ! "  she  cried,  and  there  was  a 
strained  note  in  her  usually  soft  voice.  "  Teli  me 
just  what  you  think.  What  could  Una  do  to  me? 
Am  I  Una  and  is  she  Elsie,  or  is  she  —  Tell  me  — " 

Calthorpe  smiled  reassuringly.  "  No,  you  're 
Elsie  Leland,  and  always  have  been.  And  she  *3 
Una  Hamby,  and  always  has  been." 

Elsie's  lips  parted  breathlessly.  "  Do  —  But  — 
Do  you  really  think  — " 

"  There  is  nothing  else  to  think,"  calmly. 

"  But  —  Then  how  is  it  I  can't  remember  anything 
of  Elsie's  life?" 

"  Well,  but  you  can't  remember  anything  of  Una's 
either,  can  you?  " 

"  No  — "     She  stared  at  him. 

"  It 's  just  a  simple  case  of  loss  of  memory.  Com- 
plete loss  of  memory.  That  is  a  fairly  frequent  re- 
sult of  an  accident."  He  spoke  in  a  very  casual, 
matter-of-fact  way  —  perhaps  in  a  studiedly  matter- 
of-fact  way. 

"  Yes  —  but  —  Why  should  I  wake  up  thinking  — 
knowing  —  I  was  Una?"  demanded  Elsie.  "I 
did  n't  even  know  such  a  person  existed." 

"  That  does  require  a  little  more  thought  and  ex- 
planation," conceded  Calthorpe  easily.  "  But  I 
know  there 's  a  perfectly  natural  explanation  for 
it." 

He  leaned  back  in  his  chair  slightly,  and  looked 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER     281 

away  across  the  lobby  for  a  moment  or  so.  The 
girl  before  him  watched  and  waited  anxiously. 

"  You  remember  you  waked  up  from  a  sort  of 
dream  or  coma,"  he  said  then,  his  eyes  coming  back 
to  her  face  with  that  easy,  comforting  smile.  "  I 
think  there 's  no  doubt  some  one  discussed  Una 
Hamby  and  the  accident  in  your  hearing." 

"  Well,  then  I  should  remember  it,"  argued  Elsie 
quickly. 

"  Not  necessarily.  Not  at  all  necessarily."  He 
leaned  forward  toward  her  again.  "  I  don't  suppose 
you  know  much  of  these  things.  You  are  too  young. 
But  it 's  a  fully  recognized  fact  —  it 's  the  one  fact 
that  accounts  for  and  explains  all  the  marvels  of 
hypnotism  —  that,  during  the  abeyance,  for  any  rea- 
son, of  the  objective  mind,  the  subjective  mind  will 
accept  any  suggestion  made  to  it,  and  work  it  out  to 
a  perfectly  logical  conclusion  —  even  to  supplying  a 
new  and  logically  equipped  personality." 

Elsie  watched  him  with  eager  eyes.  As  he  sur- 
mised, she  knew  little  or  nothing  of  the  subject  he 
mentioned.  But  her  understanding  was  keen  —  the 
last  year  had  made  it  still  keener  —  and  she  did  so 
want  to  be  convinced. 

"  You  were  unconscious,  or  at  all  events  in  a  coma- 
tose condition,  from  the  shock,"  he  went  on.  "  Your 
objective,  or  conscious  mind,  was  asleep.  But  the 
subjective  mind  never  sleeps.  It  is  the  sustaining 
power  of  the  entities  which  we  are.  Probably  —  in 


282     IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

fact,  doubtless  —  some  one  near  you  discussed  Una 
in  connection  with  the  accident.  When  you  awoke, 
having  no  memory  of  your  own  personality  to  com- 
bat it,  the  subjective  mind  supplied  this  one  which 
had  been  suggested  to  it." 

"  Could  that  really  —  ?" 

"  Not  only  could,  but  would  have  to  be,"  decidedly. 
"  Not  only  is  this  case  in  strict  keeping  with  the  laws 
governing  cases  of  this  kind,  but,  given  those  laws 
and  those  circumstances,  nothing  else  could  result." 

"  And  you  think  — "  Elsie's  wide  eyes  stared 
with  eagerness  into  his  — "  you  are  srre  I  am  Elsie 
and  always  shall  be?" 

"  Most  certainly." 

"  Oh !  "  It  was  a  veritable  sob  of  joy  and  relief. 
"  I  feel  like  a  human  being  again !  " 

Almost  overcome  with  intense  feeling,  she  covered 
her  face  with  her  hands.  Calthorpe  glanced  hastily 
round.  There  were  many  people  on  the  balcony, 
but  none  very  close  to  them,  and  none,  apparently, 
paying  any  attention  to  them. 

In  a  moment  or  so  Elsie  looked  up.  She  made  a 
visible  effort  to  calm  and  collect  herself.  Her  face 
was  pale,  but  her  eyes  shone  with  a  new  light  —  a 
new  hope. 

"  I  almost  feel  as  if  I  could  bear  anything  now,'' 
she  said.  "  You  are  sure  I  can  depend  — " 

"  Why,    of    course,"    with    a    reassuring    laugh. 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER     283 

Then,  almost  pityingly,  "  You  poor  child !  What  a 
nightmare  you  have  lived  through,  when  just  a  little 
understanding  would  have  put  you  right." 

Elsie  sighed  reminiscently.  "  But,"  she  said,  al- 
most nervously,  after  a  moment  or  so  —  she  was 
going,  hastily,  excitedly,  over  those  troublous  times 
behind  her  — "  When  I  went  to  the  hospital  to  see 
Una,  why  should  I  expect  her  to  have  dark  hair  and 
gray  eyes  —  just  as  she  had  ?  '' 

Calthorpe  smiled.  "  Don't  crowd  my  scientific 
resources  too  fast,.  But  I  should  think  probably 
that  might  result  from  the  fact  that  Una's  face  was 
the  last  you  saw  before  the  crash.'' 

"  Well,  and  then  why  would  she  —  You  know,  I 
told  you  how  she  acted  toward  me,"  went  on  Elsie, 
eagerly  pressing  for  still  further  light.  "  Why 
should  she  hate  me?  She  couldn't  know  me  any 
more  than  I  knew  her.  Why  should  she  feel  so 
ugly?" 

"  Now  you  have  got  me  in  a  corner,"  confessed 
Calthorpe.  "  I  don't  see  at  all  why  she  should  feel 
so  antagonistic.  But  no  doubt  there  's  some  per- 
fectly ordinary  reason.  And  of  course  she  'd  know 
you  —  by  sight,  anyway.  Why  not  ?  Her  memory 
was  unimpaired." 

"  Oh  —  h!  "  It  was  a  long  sigh  of  understand- 
ing. "Oh!  of  course!" 

So  great  was  the  sudden  revelation  that  rushed  in 


284     IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

upon  Elsie  that  she  could  not  voice  it.  She  sat  and 
stared  at  the  man  before  her.  And  he  smiled,  kindly 
and  amused. 

"  Yes?     Is  a  great  light  breaking  in?  "  he  asked. 

"  Oh,  of  course !  I  forgot  —  well,  I  did  n't  think 
for  the  minute  —  about  her  being  able  to  remember. 
Of  course  she  'd  hate  the  sight  of  me."  Elsie  gazed 
questioningly  at  Calthorpe  as  if  he  could  read  her 
thoughts.  "  Do  you  suppose  she  — " 

"  Well,  I  can  hardly  tell,"  smiled  Calthorpe. 
"  Unless  you  enlighten  me  a  little  further." 

"  You  know  Miss  Hamby  was  Mr.  Renshaw's 
secretary  before  she  came  to  you." 

"  Yes."     Calthorpe  nodded  reflectively. 

"Well,  I  was  told  that  she  was  —  Oh,  I  don't 
know  whether  she  was  actually  engaged  to  Mr.  Ren- 
shaw  or  not,  but  —  but  I  think  she  expected  to  be." 
Elsie  faltered  a  little  in  this  discussion  of  another 
girl's  love-affair. 

"  Oh,"  commented  Calthorpe  gravely.  He  recol- 
lected that  when  engaging  Una  Hamby  it  had  oc- 
curred to  him  to  wonder  slightly  why,  having  such 
unqualified  testimonials  from  Renshaw,  she  had  left 
his  employ.  He  could  not  recollect  that  he  had  ques- 
tioned her  at  all  on  the  subject.  If  he  had,  she  had 
doubtless  answered  him  in  a  satisfactory  manner. 
But  now  a  great  many  things  explained  themselves 
to  him  with  almost  the  suddenness  of  revelation, 
even  as  they  did  to  Elsie. 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER     285 

"  And  do  you  think  that,  when  I  was  talking  to  her 
at  the  hospital  about  having  taken  her  place,  she 
supposed  all  the  while  I  was  referring  to  —  to  Mr. 
Renshaw  ?  "  queried  Elsie,  staring  in  amazement  at 
the  idea. 

"  No  doubt  at  all,"  said  Calthorpe  thoughtfully. 
"  You  talked  at  entirely  cross-purposes.  You  had 
one  thing  in  mind,  she  another.  Neither  would  be 
explicit.  You  were  afraid  to  be ;  she  was  too  angry 
and  proud."  He  considered  the  matter  for  a  mo- 
ment or  so,  and  then  looked  suddenly  up.  "  Well, 
for  that  matter,  Alan  can  enlighten  us  on  this  par- 
ticular point.  She  talked  to  him,  you  say.  He  '11 
know  what  she  had  in  mind." 

"  Oh !  "  With  a  distinct  shadow  falling  across 
her  face,  there  came  back  to  Elsie  the  thought  of 
Alan  and  his  share  in  all  the  matters  discussed.  In 
the  joy  of  her  deliverance  she  had  forgotten  him  for 
the  moment. 

"  Yes,"  nodded  Calthorpe,  quick  to  follow  her 
thought.  "  Now  we  come  to  Alan.  Are  you  going 
to  tell  him  how  things  have  cleared  themselves  up? 
Or  shall  I?" 

Elsie  clasped  her  hands  nervously  on  her  knees. 
"  Do  you  think  he  '11  believe  it?  " 

"  Why,  of  course  he  '11  believe  it !  "  promptly. 
"  Why  should  n't  he  ?  There  's  nothing  whatever  to 
tax  any  one's  credulity.  Besides,  the  thing  explains 
itself." 


She  sat  and  looked  at  him,  hope  and  fear  and 
longing  struggling  in  her  eyes. 

"  Come,  now,"  encouraged  Calthorpe  gently. 
"  Go  to  him  and  tell  him  what  you  have  just  told 
me." 

But  Elsie  shrank  visibly  from  the  idea.  "  Oh,  I 
couldn't!  "  she  cried.  "  I  asked  him  right  straight 
out  in  so  many  words  to  take  me  with  him  and  he 
refused  just  as  straightly.  How  could  I  go  to  him 
after  that?" 

"  Elsie,"  he  said  —  and  did  not  notice  that  he  had 
called  her  that  —  neither  did  she  — "  you  must  re- 
member that  Alan  has  been  quite  in  the  dark  all  this 
time.  He  could  only  judge  of  your  actions  as  a 
mere  outsider  might.  Alan  is  a  little  bit  stern  in  his 
way  of  looking  at  things.  That 's  one  of  the  faults 
of  very  straight  people.  They  haven't  quite  so 
much  understanding  as  —  others.  But  Alan  is  not 
an  unreasonable  man.  I  can't  imagine  why  you 
did  n't  go  to  him  at  once  for  help,  when  you  woke 
and  found  yourself  in  such  a  terrible  predicament." 

"Oh,  I  couldn't!"  exclaimed  Elsie.  "How 
could  I  ?  He  was  a  stranger  to  me.  And  I  seemed 
to  have  stepped  into  such  —  such  dreadful  things." 

"  Have  you  ever  been  able  to  discover  just  what 
it  was  that  had  so  estranged  Alan?"  inquired  Cal- 
thorpe thoughtfully. 

"  Why,  no  particular  act.  At  least  I  've  never 
heard  anything  of  any  specific  act.  I  think  it  was 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER      287 

my  fondness  —  or  apparent  fondness  —  for  Mr. 
Renshaw's  company."  Elsie  wrinkled  her  brows  in 
a  puzzled  way.  "  I  can't  imagine  how  I  ever  came 
to  like  that.  I  think  it  must  have  been  for  the  ex- 
citing times  we  all  had  together.  I  —  Oh,  of  course 
I  can't  even  understand  it  now.  But,"  she  lifted  her 
head  and  looked  straight  at  him,  "  though  there  's 
a  lot  of  weak  foolishness  to  regret,  there  's  nothing 
more.  I  asked  Mrs.  McKeene  just  before  I  came 
away.  She  has  evidently  always  been  my  closest 
friend.  I  asked  her  if  I  had  anything  more  than  — 
anything  worse  than  —  than  foolishness  to  regret, 
and  she  said  decidedly  not.  And  she  knows." 

"  Undoubtedly  she  would,"  agreed  Calthorpe, 
confidently.  "  And  I  feel  the  same  conviction,  my- 
self. So  there  is  nothing  to  keep  you  from  going  to 
Alan  as  much  for  the  sake  of  his  happiness  as  your 
own.  He  loved  you  very  much.  I  'm  sure  of  that." 

"  But  he  does  n't  now,"  asserted  Elsie  sadly. 

"  I  don't  agree  with  you  for  a  minute,"  said  Cal- 
thorpe, calmly.  "  To  begin  with,  you  're  not  a 
woman  a  man  would  easily  forget.  And  Alan  is  not 
a  man  to  change  in  a  hurry.  He  is  essentially  a  one- 
woman  man.  And  besides,"  he  went  on  gravely, 
"  even  if  the  worst  came  to  the  worst,  and  he  did  not 
wish  to  have  you  with  him  again,  would  n't  you  still 
be  glad  you  had  gone  to  him  and  told  him  every- 
thing? You  would  have  done  your  best  then  and 
your  heart  would  be  at  rest.  You  have  been  so 


288      IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

brave  so  far.  Are  you  willing  to  leave  this  last  stone 
unturned?  " 

Elsie's  reply  was  little  better  than  a  whisper: 
"  No." 

But  there  was  very  little  hope  or  animation  in  her 
face  as  she  sat  gazing  before  her.  Evidently  this 
new  task  facing  her  was  a  very  trying  one. 

"  Might  n't  I  write?  "  she  hazarded  then. 

"  No,"  decidedly.  "  The  personal  appeal  is 
better." 

Calthorpe  was  doing  some  rapid  thinking,  himself. 
He  was  immensely  interested  in  this  case.  Not  for 
years  had  anything  appealed  to  him  so  strongly.  He 
was  loath  to  abandon  it  unfinished,  and  still  subject 
to  disaster. 

"  I  '11  tell  you  what  I  think,"  he  went  on  then. 
"  I  have  a  notion  to  come  with  you  myself.  I 
have  n't  thought  the  matter  over,  but  I  'd  like  some- 
how to  have  a  talk  with  Alan  first  of  all,  with  you 
somewhere  in  the  background.  Would  you  trust 
things  entirely  to  my  discretion  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  indeed!  "  eagerly. 

Calthorpe  nodded.  "  Well,  I  must  think  it  over. 
But  I  could  n't  go  this  week  —  not  until  the  end  of 
next  at  the  earliest,  I  'm  afraid.  I  've  got  to  get 
back  to  the  office,  and  — " 

"  Oh,  and  I  could  n't  leave  the  girls  without  get- 
ting a  suitable  substitute,  either,"  said  Elsie,  quickly. 

"  No,     of     course     not,"     approvingly.     "  Well, 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER     289 

then — How  long  do  you  expect  to  be  here?" 
"  Only  this  week.  Then  we  go  to  Minneapolis." 
"  Well,  that  '11  be  all  right.  You  can  drop  me  a 
line  from  there  to  the  office,  giving  me  your  address 
and  the  date  you  can  get  off.  I  '11  find  out  particu- 
lars as  to  train  times,  Alan's  station,  and  all  that.  I 
know  it 's  somewhere  in  northern  California  —  near 
the  Oregon  state  line.  But  I  '11  get  all  necessary 
data.  And  now,"  he  touched  her  lightly  on  the  wrist, 
"  I  'm  going  to  take  you  home.  You  're  tired  out, 
and  must  have  a  good  rest.'' 

Elsie  rose.  Many  emotions  were  still  struggling 
in  her  eyes,  but  the  expression  of  her  face  was  infi- 
nitely more  natural  than  the  set,  repressed  calm  of 
earlier  in  the  evening.  Calthorpe  looked  at  her  ap- 
praisingly. 

"  Where  did  you  say  you  girls  live?  " 
"  In  the  apartment  block,  six  blocks  from  here  — 
housekeeping  apartments,"  she  told  him.     "  We  al- 
ways do  if  we  can.     We  get  so  that  we  hate  anything 
that  looks  like  a  grill  or  a  restaurant." 

They  went  down  and  walked  leisurely  the  six 
blocks.  Neither  talked  much.  Calthorpe  felt 
enough  had  been  said  for  the  present. 

As  they  stopped  in  the  vestibule  of  the  apartment 
house,  Calthorpe  looked  down  at  the  pale,  quiet  face 
of  the  girl  before  him.  "  You  '11  sleep  to-night, 
won't  you  ?  "  he  said  smilingly. 

She  looked   up   at  him,   her  hand   outstretched. 


290     IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Calthorpe,  when  I  think  of  all  the  trouble 
you  have  taken,  and  are  —  are  going  to  take,  I  — 
oh,  I  can  hardly  believe  it!  I  don't  want  to  sound 
silly,  but  I  shall  certainly  pray  for  something  special 
for  you !  " —  she  laughed,  to  cover  her  deep  feeling 
— "  an  extra  diamond  in  your  crown." 

Calthorpe  took  the  hand  she  held  out.  "  Dear 
lady,  if  I  have  succeeded  in  helping  you  at  all,  I  am 
more  than  rewarded  this  minute." 

And  that  was  the  truth. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

NEARLY  three  weeks  later,  about  ten  o'clock 
one  morning,  Elsie  descended  from  a  South- 
ern Pacific  train,  upon  the  little  wooden  platform  at 
Berkhold's  Crossing.  Calthorpe  met  her  with  a 
smile  and  a  hand-shake,  and  a  very  matter-of-fact 
air  to  offset  her  evident  nervousness.  In  order  not 
to  leave  her  waiting  there  alone,  it  had  been  neces- 
sary for  him  to  reach  Berkhold's  overnight.  But  it 
never  occurred  to  him  that  it  was  out  of  the  way  or 
undignified  for  the  president  of  a  railroad  and  an 
important  man  of  affairs  to  spend  a  day  or  two  try- 
ing to  adjust  the  tangle  in  the  lives  of  a  man  and  a 
woman.  Not  at  all.  He  was  more  whole-heartedly 
interested  and  wrapped  up  in  what  he  was  doing  now 
than  in  anything  he  had  undertaken  for  a  long  time. 
And  that  is  saying  much,  for  Calthorpe  was  a  man 
who  found  life  interesting  at  every  point. 

Berkhold's  Crossing  was  not  even  a  hamlet.  It 
was  merely  a  combined  store  and  post-office  on  one 
side  of  the  road,  and  on  the  other  a  big  barn-like 
garage,  and  a  rambling,  patchy-looking  house  which 
dignified  itself  by  the  name  of  Berkhold's  Hotel. 
The  fact  that  the  road  in  question  was  the  Pacific 
Highway  was  the  wherefore  primarily  of  the  exist- 
ence of  the  place. 

291 


292     IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

Calthorpe  pointed  to  a  distinct  cleft  in  the  amphi- 
theater of  hills  surrounding  the  place.  "  The 
camp  's  up  there,"  he  said,  as  he  piloted  Elsie  over  to 
the  hotel.  "  There 's  an  auto-train  business  that 
runs  up  over  the  track.  It  '11  be  going  up  after  noon, 
and  we  '11  go  up  in  it.  We  '11  have  lunch  at  the 
hotel  first.  That  will  really  be  the  best  possible  kind 
of  an  arrangement  all  the  way  round.  They  tell  me 
the  cutting  is  about  two  miles  above  the  camp  now, 
and  Alan  will  almost  certainly  be  up  there  by  the 
time  we  reach  camp.  Then  I  can  leave  you  in  camp 
and  go  up  and  have  a  talk  with  Alan,  myself,  first. 
See?" 

She  nodded  obediently.  She  had  made  up  her 
mind  to  leave  everything  to  him,  to  do  just  as  he 
directed.  She  had  told  him  she  would.  She  real- 
ized, where  he  did  not,  the  more  than  ordinary  value 
of  his  time  and  effort.  If  she  had  not,  it  is  doubt- 
ful whether  she  would  ever  have  actually  reached 
Berkhold's.  She  was  a  proud  woman  at  heart,  and 
many  times  on  the  way  down,  despite  the  size  of  the 
stake  ahead,  her  courage  had  failed  her  woefully. 

As  they  waited  for  the  lunch  hour  to  approach, 
Elsie  was  a  study  in  restlessness  and  fidgets.  She 
sat  on  the  porch  a  while;  she  wandered  round  the 
garden :  she  visited  the  chicken  yard  and  watched 
the  chickens.  Not  so  Calthorpe.  He  was  already 
interested  in  the  life  of  the  little  place.  The  widow 
Berkhold,  who  kept  the  hotel,  had  explained  how 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER      293 

her  son  had  come  to  build  the  garage.  So  many 
automobile  breakdowns  occurred  at  the  foot  of  the 
big  hill  leading  up  to  and  into  the  little  cup  in  the 
hills  which  the  place  was.  She  told  how  in  the  first 
place  she  had  merely  built  a  home  to  be  near  him; 
but  when  so  many  auto  parties  stopped  there,  some 
of  them  insisting  on  staying  all  night,  the  home 
gradually  grew  to  be  a  hotel.  Calthorpe's  experi- 
ence told  him  that  from  just  such  small  beginnings 
great  things  grow ;  and  he  went  over  to  talk  to  the 
young  man  in  the  garage  and  to  point  out  the  great 
possibilities  ahead. 

At  lunch,  which  was  eaten  by  all  alike  at  one  long 
table,  about  a  dozen  men  gathered.  Calthorpe  lis- 
tened to  the  talk  of  local  men  and  things,  but  was 
diverted  every  moment  of  the  time,  and  enjoyed  his 
meal.  But  poor  restless  Elsie  could  not.  She  ate 
a  biscuit  and  drank  a  cup  of  coffee,  and  that,  not- 
withstanding the  troubled  solicitations  of  the  land- 
lady, was  all  she  could  manage. 

It  seemed  to  her  an  interminable  time  before  they 
were  really  seated  in  the  auto-bus  affair,  and  off  on 
their  great  adventure.  It  was  a  wonderfully  inter- 
esting ride  to  any  who  would  note.  The  little  auto- 
train  traveled  across  high  trestles  built  over  deep 
ravines,  and  over  creeks  and  swollen  mountain 
streams ;  and  Calthorpe  was  interested  from  a  techni- 
cal and  every  other  point  of  view. 

On  reaching  camp,  the  auto-bus  stopped  at  a  plank 


294     IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

platform  built  before  a  row  of  portable  buildings, 
which  constituted  the  commissary,  the  mess  house 
and  the  cook-house.  Calthorpe  helped  Elsie  down 
with  the  quiet,  abstracted  air  of  a  man  who  now 
begins  the  real  business  of  the  day. 

"  Now,"  he  said  to  her,  in  a  quiet  aside,  "  we  '11 
find  out  which  is  Alan's  room,  or  tent,  or  shack,  or 
whatever  he  has.  Then  you  can  go  and  wait  there 
while  I  go  up  to  the  cutting.  If  things  go  all  right 
—  and  I  'm  quite  sure  they  will  —  I  '11  bring  him 
back  down  with  me.  If  —  if  I  think  things  are  not 
really  ready  just  yet,  I  '11  come  back  alone,  and  he 
need  not  know  you  've  been  here  —  at  least,  not  till 
we  're  gone." 

Elsie  nodded  mutely.  From  the  look  in  her  eyes 
Calthorpe  told  himself  that  one  of  the  very  hardest 
things  he  would  ever  have  to  do  in  his  life  would  be 
to  come  back  down  that  track  alone.  However,  he 
turned  briskly  to  the  commissary  man  who  stood  in 
his  doorway,  amiably  curious  and  waiting  to  be  in- 
terviewed. 

"  Which  is  Mr.  Leland's  place?  " 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Leland  's  up  at  the  cutting,"  returned 
the  man  promptly. 

"  I  know  that,"  mildly ;  "  but  which  is  his  room  ?  " 

The  man  pointed  up  the  hill  behind  them  to  a  small 
edition  of  the  portable  buildings.  A  distinct  path  led 
to  it  from  the  platform  where  they  stood. 

"  Well,  you  go  up  there,  and  wait."  instructed  Cal- 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER     295 

thorpe,  turning  to  the  waiting  Elsie,  "  while  I  go  up 
to  the  cutting." 

"  The  lady  can  sit  in  the  office  here,"  suggested 
the  commissary  man.  "  There  's  a  stove." 

"  Oh,  thanks.  But  I  sha'n't  be  long,"  said  Cal- 
thorpe  pleasantly.  "  She  '11  be  all  right." 

A  few  feet  away  from  the  commissary,  but  not 
on  the  platform,  stood  another  portable,  whose  taste- 
fully draped  windows  bespoke  a  woman's  presence. 
Indeed,  within  it  a  young  woman  could  be  seen,  gaz- 
ing curiously  in  their  direction. 

"  I  expect  my  wife  would  be  glad  to  have  her  sit 
with  her,"  hazarded  the  commissary  man  further. 

Calthorpe  smiled,  amused  at  this  troublesome  ex- 
hibition of  thought  fulness.  Elsie  had  already 
started  up  the  path. 

"  I  expect  she  'd  rather  go  up  to  Mr.  Leland's 
room.  If  he  does  n't  keep  it  tidy,"  he  added  smil- 
ingly, "  it  serves  him  right  to  have  his  wife  see  it." 

"  Oh !  "  The  man  looked  after  Elsie  in  very  evi- 
dent surprise.  Plainly  the  existence  of  a  wife  for 
Alan  had  never  been  suspected. 

Calthorpe  waited  till  Elsie  reached  the  shack,  tried 
the  door,  and  found  it  open.  She  turned  and  nodded 
to  him,  and  then  stepped  inside. 

Then  Calthorpe  began  his  work  on  the  driver  of 
the  auto-bus,  who  was  at  first  scandalized  at  the 
proposition  that  he  should  drive  the  visitor  up  to  the 
cutting. 


296      IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

"  I  might  meet  the  work  train  coming  down. 
Then  where  'd  I  be?  "  he  demanded. 

"  Don't  know."  Calthorpe's  eyes  twinkled. 
"  Depends  on  where  you  met  it." 

However,  the  commissary  man  volunteered  the 
information  that  there  was  no  earthly  reason  for  the 
work  train  to  come  down  until  it  brought  the  men 
down  at  night.  Therefore,  in  consideration  of  the 
fact  that  Calthorpe  was  a  great  friend  of  Mr.  Le- 
land's,  which  fact  was  considerably  augmented  in 
weight  by  the  addition  of  a  five-dollar  bill,  he  con- 
sented to  risk  the  journey. 

Alan  turned  in  surprise  as  the  auto-bus,  with  many 
and  loud  blasts  of  a  particularly  raucous  horn,  ap- 
proached the  cutting,  and  came  to  a  stop  behind  the 
work  train.  It  was  doubtless  some  of  the  line  offi- 
cials, although  he  was  not  expecting  any  one.  When 
Calthorpe  climbed  carefully  out  and  down  onto  the 
ties,  he  was  indeed  amazed. 

"  President  Calthorpe !  "  he  exclaimed,  hastening 
forward,  and  meeting  the  outstretched  hand  with  a 
hearty  clasp.  "  How  good  it  seems  to  see  you!  — 
like  a  breath  of  home  and  old  times." 

Calthorpe  patted  him  on  the  shoulder.  "  Good 
lad,  to  feel  like  that,"  he  said  gently.  Then,  "  Yes. 
I  'm  on  my  way  down  south,  and  so  I  stopped  off  to 
see  you." 

"  Well,  that 's  mighty  nice  of  you,"  said  Alan, 
sincerely,  realizing  all  that  meant  to  a  busy  man. 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER     297 

"  Not  at  all.  I  wanted  to.''  He  turned  partly 
round,  and  looked  critically  up  and  down  the  cutting 
"  I  'm  hearing  fine  accounts  of  your  work,"  he  said 
cordially.  "  I  suppose  the  line  will  have  it  in  for  me 
pretty  badly,  but  I  expect  to  take  you  from  them 
shortly.  Oh,  not  till  you  have  finished  this  particu- 
lar piece  of  work,  of  course.  That  would  n't  be  fair. 
But  I  'm  working  on  a  splendid  job  for  you.  A  big 
chance  to  make  a  name  for  yourself  —  and  that's 
just  what  I  want  to  see  you  do.  Headquarters  in 
San  Francisco.  How  would  that  be?  " 

"  Fine !  "     Alan  looked  frankly  at  the  man  beside 
him.     "  And  Mr.  Calthorpe,  you  don't  know  what  it 
means  to  me  to  know  that  you  '11  do  all  this  for  me  — 
that  you  have  n't  forgotten  me." 

"  Forgotten !  Of  course  not !  I  don't  forget  men 
who,  you  might  almost  say,  start  their  careers  with 
me.  I  always  thought  a  lot  of  you,  Alan.  You 
know  that.  I  still  feel  that  you  're  one  of  my  fam- 
ily. And  now  let 's  have  a  chat.  Can  you  spare  a 
half-hour?" 

"  Yes,  indeed."  Alan  laughed.  It  would  be  odd 
if  he  could  not  do  so,  in  view  of  Calthorpe's  lavish 
expenditure  of  time  upon  him. 

"  All  right,"  nodding  contentedly.  "  Let 's  go 
and  sit  on  that  log.  Tell  the  auto  magnate  to  wait." 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

SITTING  on  the  log,  each  man  lit  his  pipe  con- 
tentedly.    Calthorpe  looked  up  and  down  the 
busy  cutting,  and  then  at  the  fine,  lithe  figure  in 
corduroys  and  leggings  beside  him. 

"Ever  get  lonesome,  Alan?" 

"  Oh-h  —  no.  I  read  and  study  at  night.  In 
the  daytime,  of  course,  I  have  no  chance  to  get  lone- 
some," smiling. 

"  No,"  reflectively.  Then,  indicating  with  a  nod 
of  the  head  the  bustling  scene  before  him,  "  You 
know,  Alan,  you  've  really  got  a  much  better  chance 
of  advancing  in  your  profession  in  a  project  like  this, 
than  —  than  you  had  with  us." 

"  I  suppose  so,"  Alan  agreed  with  a  nod. 

"  Yes.  Things  always  turn  out  for  the  best.  Al- 
though," frowning  slightly,  "  I  hated  that  affair  last 
summer  pretty  badly.  If  I  had  known  — " 

"  Oh,  I  knew  you  did  n't  know  anything  about  it," 
hastily,  and  with  the  air  of  a  man  who  dismisses  an 
unpleasant  subject. 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  did  know  all  about  it,  thanks  to  your 
wife,"  corrected  Calthorpe  calmly.  "  But  not  in 
time." 

"  To  my  wife  ?"  repeated  Alan,  staring  at  him. 
298 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER     299 

Calthorpe  nodded.  "  Yes.  She  came  and  told 
me  of  the  rumor  of  your  pending  discharge.  She 
also  informed  me  fully  of  the  causes  and  motives 
leading  up  to  it,  and  of  the  —  the  main  power  direct- 
ing it."  He  paused  reflectively.  "  She  did  this, 
not  to  save  your  position--  I  think  she  was  glad  to 
have  you  lose  that  if  in  consequence  she,  with  you, 
could  go  to  fresh  fields,  and  so  leave  the  sphere  of 
influence  she  was  finding  it  so  hard  to  loosen  —  but 
because  she  wanted  justice  done  to  you  and  the  faith- 
ful work  you  had  done.  That  is  what  she,  a  woman, 
came  to  tell  me,  a  man  and  a  stranger.  It  was 
bizarre,  but  it  was  brave." 

"  Oh !  "  Alan  was  recalling.  "  Yes.  I  saw  her 
come  out  of  your  office  that  afternoon." 

;<  You  did  ?  "  smiling.  "  Strange  how  things  ar- 
range themselves!  Did  she  know  that  you  saw 
her?" 

"  I  think  not." 

"  Oh !  Hm-m.  I  see."  Calthorpe  was  piecing 
things  together,  too.  "  And  you  followed  her  down. 
That  is  how  it  was  you  saw  Renshaw  meet  her  in 
the  lobby." 

"  Yes.     Did  she  tell  you  that,  too  ?  " 

Calthorpe  nodded  in  a  matter-of-fact  way.  "  Yes. 
Yes,  I  saw  her  in  Denver  about  three  weeks  ago, 
and  we  had  a  long  talk." 

"  In  Denver  ?  "  Alan  wondered  whether  Elsie 
had  set  up  an  establishment  there. 


300     IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

"  Yes."  Calthorpe  smoked  on  contentedly. 
Then  he  observed  casually  —  perhaps  over-casually, 
but  his  listener  did  not  notice  that  — "  She  's  a  good 
singer,  is  n't  she?  " 

'  Yes,"  agreed  Alan  readily  enough.  "  She  was 
developing  a  very  good  voice.  Did  she  sing  for  you, 
then?" 

"  Yes.  Well,  that  is  —  not  for  me  in  particular," 
coolly.  "  I  was  in  the  grill,  and  she  sang  for  the 
whole  crowd,  of  course." 

"  Oh,  Lord !  "  Alan's  face  was  a  study  in  dis- 
gust. "  Is  she  doing  that?  " 

Calthorpe  looked  at  him  in  surprise.  "  Yes. 
Why  not  ?  She  could  n't  possibly  make  so  good  a 
living  in  any  other  way.  She  's  in  a  quartet.  Very 
nice  girls,  they  are.  I  met  them.  Live  a  strictly 
quiet,  home  life  off  the  stage.  Names  of  the  per- 
sonnel of  the  quartet  do  not  transpire,  if  that 's  what 
you  're  thinking  of.  What  would  you  have  her  do? 
Go  behind  a  counter?  " 

"  No,"  almost  curtly.  He  had  a  man's  aversion  to 
discussing  his  domestic  affairs;  but  in  this  instance 
Calthorpe  plainly  knew  more  than  he  himself  did. 
"  She  does  not  need  to  do  anything.  I  sent  her 
money,  but  the  bank  notified  me  that  the  money  lay 
there." 

"  Certainly.''  Calthorpe  nodded  entire  approval. 
"  She  did  quite  right.  No  self-respecting  woman 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER     301 

will  take  money  from  a  man  who  does  not  want  her, 
even  if  he  is  her  husband." 

Alan  made  a  movement  of  slight  impatience, 
"  You  don't  understand." 

"  But  I  do  understand,  much  more  than  you  do," 
contradicted  Calthorpe  evenly.  "  I  know  that  girl 
has  come  bravely  through  an  experience  that  would 
have  put  a  good  many  into  an  asylum." 

Alan  smiled  at  the  weighty  statement.  "  I  don't 
think  Elsie  ever  took  things  to  heart  quite  that 
deeply." 

"  I  know  you  don't  think  so,"  agreed  Calthorpe, 
dryly,  "  which  just  shows  how  little  you  really  know 
about  it." 

Alan  sat  quiet.  He  would  not  contradict  the  man 
at  his  side.  And  he  was  glad  Elsie  had  so  good  and 
influential  a  partizan. 

"  How  long  has  Elsie  been  —  been  singing?"  he 
asked  then. 

"Oh,  let's  see:  about  eight  months,  isn't  it? 
She  left  home  about  a  week  after  you  did.  Has  n't 
been  back  since,"  he  added  casually. 

After  a  moment's  silence  Calthorpe  began  to  speak 
again.  His  eyes  rested  gravely  on  the  distant  fir 
tops  standing  in  the  sunlight. 

"  You  know,  Mrs.  Leland's  story  has  made  me  do 
a  lot  of  thinking.  More  than  ever  I  realize  how 
little  we  really  know  of  life.  We  handle  a  set  of 


302     IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

symbols,  and  never  pause  to  think  of  the  immensities 
that  stand  behind.  I  shall  always  wonder  when  I 
hear  —  How  often  we  read  of  apparently  entirely  in- 
explicable suicides!  Of  people  living  whole  lives  in 
sane  and  ordinary  fashion,  perhaps,  and  then  sud- 
denly doing — "  His  voice  trailed  off  into  deep 
thought. 

Alan  sat  and  smoked  in  some  secret  surprise. 
Something  had  evidently  much  impressed  this  emi- 
nently logical  and  practical  man. 

"  We  don't  even  know  what  tremendous  potential- 
ities lie  behind  these  pin-points  of  consciousness  we 
call  ourselves."  Calthorpe  returned  to  the  man  be- 
side him  with  a  friendly  smile.  "  Did  you  know," 
he  said  then,  apropos  apparently  of  nothing  in  his  re- 
cent words,  "  that  the  morning  after  that  little  acci- 
dent affair,  when  your  wife  came  down  to  you  in 
the  morning-room,  to  her  knowledge  she  had  never 
seen  you  in  her  life  before?  " 

"  No,  of  course  I  did  n't  know  it,"  promptly,  gaz- 
ing amazed  at  the  speaker.  "  How  could  I  know 
it?  Memory  completely  gone,  you  mean?" 

He  gazed  at  Calthorpe,  but  hardly  saw  him.  He 
recalled  in  a  moment  the  scene  in  the  morning-room 
as  mentioned  —  the  wide-eyed  woman  who  listened 
in  silence  to  his  words.  And  somehow  the  recalling 
brought  a  twinge  of  pain. 

"Well,  why  didn't  she  say  so?"  he  demanded, 
almost  sharply. 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER      303 

"  She  was  afraid." 

"Afraid?" 

"  Yes.     There  were  complications." 

And  then,  seeing  that  Alan's  full  attention  and 
curiosity  were  aroused,  Calthorpe  told  in  detail 
Elsie's  story  pretty  much  as  she  had  told  it.  He  told 
of  her  visits  to  Una  in  the  hospital ;  of  her  first  meet- 
ing with  Addie ;  with  Renshaw.  He  was  careful  not 
to  omit  the  little  human  touches,  such  as  the  ruse  by 
which  Elsie  had  obtained  Addie's  name  and  her  tus- 
sles with  Annie.  He  told  of  her  going  to  New  York 
and  touched  lightly  on  the  fact  that  she  had  not  seen 
any  one  from  her  home  town  since  leaving  it.  Then 
he  gave  Alan  a  short  technical  explanation  of  the 
whole  thing,  much  as  he  had  given  Elsie,  but  perhaps 
a  little  more  complete  and  extended. 

"  The  wonder  is  that  she  did  n't  really  go  insane," 
he  commented  as  he  finished.  "  She  won  out  en- 
tirely unaided  and  alone.  She  had  n't  a  real  friend 
in  the  world." 

"  Well,  but  she  could  have  had,  if  she  had  only 
explained,"  said  Alan.  He  was  plainly  amazed  at 
what  he  had  just  heard;  troubled,  too,  it  seemed. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know,"  thoughtfully.  "  Put  your- 
self in  her  place.  To  begin  with,  do  you  think  you 
would  have  ventured  to  confide  in  a  man  who  was 
not  only  an  apparent  stranger  to  you,  but  who,  by  his 
very  first  words,  was  plainly  inimical?  Don't  you 
think  all  the  way  through  you  stood  so  strongly  on 


304     IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

your  supposed  superior  goodness  and  magnanimity 
that  it  was  impossible  for  her  to  approach  and  speak  ? 
And  to  whom  else  could  she  have  safely  gone? '' 

Alan  did  not  reply.  He  was  thinking  again  of 
her  timid  little  request  to  accompany  him  west. 
Justified  as  he  had  fully  thought  he  was,  somehow 
her  face,  with  its  passion  and  hurt  and  pain,  had 
often  risen  up  before  him  during  these  lonely  after 
days,  and  always  had  left  him  strangely  uncom- 
fortable. 

'  The  minute  I  looked  up  and  saw  her  standing  on 
that  stage,"  went  on  Calthorpe,  "  I  knew  she  had 
won."  His  head  went  up  in  unconscious  imitation 
of  Elsie's  attitude.  "  I  knew  when  she  came  to  me 
that  afternoon  in  the  office  at  home  that  she  was 
making  a  brave  stand  on  something,  and  I  often  won- 
dered how  she  fared.  So  in  Denver  I  made  her  tell 
me  everything.  I  could  see,  too,  that  she  needed  to 
unburden.  She  was  freezing  slowly  from  the  heart 
outwrard.  She  has  been  a  very  brave  woman.  I  ad- 
mire her  immensely/' 

He  said  these  words  very  quietly.  But  from  him 
they  meant  a  lot. 

Alan  sat  and  thought  a  few  minutes,  puffing  furi- 
ously at  his  pipe,  and  staring  absently  at  the  clouds 
of  smoke  that  emanated  from  his  endeavors.  He 
was  very  much  troubled.  A  sense  of  shortcoming, 
almost  of  remorse,  was  upon  him.  And  yet  he  could 
not  see  — 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER     305 

"  Well,"  he  observed  then,  as  much  to  himself  as 
to  Calthorpe ;  "  I  don't  see  how  I  could  have  been  ex- 
pected to  know,  to  understand  — " 

"  You  could  n't,  dear  lad,"  agreed  Calthorpe  with 
a  smile,  kindly  but  quizzical.  "  You  're  far  too 
straight  a  man  to  have  any  understanding,  any  hu- 
man understanding.  Elsie  Leland  is  a  woman  of 
very  complex  emotional  personality.  I  don't  sup- 
pose she  ever  has  been  understood.  How  was  she 
brought  up?  " 

"  Oh,  her  mother  is  Mrs.  Van  Duyn.  Don't  you 
remember  C.  S.  Van  Duyn,  president  of  the  Inde- 
pendent Power  Company?"  Calthorpe  nodded. 
"  Died  about  ten  years  ago.  Mrs.  Van  Duyn  is 
fairly  well  off.  Spends  most  of  her  time  abroad 
now.  Oh,  no,  Elsie  never  had  any  home  life,  or 
anything  of  that  sort.  I  knew  that  of  course  when 
she  married  me,  and  tried  to  make  every  allowance." 

Calthorpe  smiled;  but  Alan  did  not  appear  to 
notice  the  slight  sign  of  incredulity.  He  had  gone 
back  in  spirit  to  those  first  glad  months  of  their  mar- 
ried life  together.  How  dear  and  sweet  his  Rose 
Girl  had  been ! 

'  The  first  year  of  our  married  life  was  very 
happy,"  he  said  with  a  half-sigh. 

"  She  stayed  closely  home  and  was  content  with 
you  alone  ?  "  guessed  Calthorpe  keenly. 

Alan  nodded.  "  Yes.  She  seemed  quite  content. 
Well,  I  think  she  was  content.  And  I  still  think  all 


3o6     IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

would   have   been   well   if  —  if   the   child   had — ;' 

"  Oh!  there  was  a  child."  Calthorpe  was  plainly 
surprised.  "  Did  it  die  ?  " 

"  Yes.  Well,  that  is  —  not  exactly."  Frowning. 
"  There  was  a  premature  explosion  up  the  line,  and 
some  fool  telephoned  in  that  we  were  all  killed.  One 
or  two  fellows  were  knocked  out,  but  no  one  was 
killed." 

"  And  was  —    That  made  her  ill  ?  " 

"  Yes.  She  was  very  ill.  And  the  child  was 
lost." 

"  Ah."  Calthorpe  looked  much  as  a  miner  might 
who  has  quite  suddenly  struck  a  pay  streak.  "  And 
did  you  notice  any  change  in  her  after  that  illness  ?  " 

"  No."  Alan  looked  questioningly  at  him. 
"  After  the  loss  of  the  child  there  was  no  necessity 
for  retirement,  whole  or  partial,  of  course.  She 
gradually  began  to  return  to  her  old  life  of  pleasure 
and  excitement-seeking.  And — " 

"Of  course  it  was  gradual.  She  would  n't  be 
likely  to  change  overnight/'  said  Calthorpe,  amused. 
"  Did  n't  you  know  that  that  kind  of  illness  consti- 
tutes a  great  shock  to  the  nervous  system  of  a 
woman  ?  And  did  n't  it  ever  occur  to  you  that  the 
shock  and  illness  had  anything  to  do  with  this  crav- 
ing for  pleasure  and  excitement?  " 

"  No,"  thoughtfully.  "  She  seemed  quite  well. 
Just  how  do  you  mean  ?  You  '11  have  to  be  more  ex- 
plicit. I  'm  no  physician,"  smiling  ruefully. 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER     307 

"  No,  neither  am  I.  But  I  have  a  little  common 
sense.  I  know  that  when  men  recover  from  illness, 
and  their  nerves  are  unstrung,  they  often  fly  to  stimu- 
lants —  drugs  or  drink.  Women  don't  so  often  do 
that.  They  fly  to  excitement,  which  is  a  stimulant 
of  a  kind,  of  course." 

"  And  you  think  — "  began  Alan. 

"  I  think  if  you  had  had  a  little  patience  and  under- 
standing, and  if  you  had  realized  the  sick,  nervous 
state  of  this  girl,  all  would  have  been  well,"  asserted 
Calthorpe  with  decision.  "If  you  had  gone  out 
with  her  instead  of  insisting  on  her  staying  at  home 
and  repressing,  constantly  repressing;  if  you  had 
done  anything  to  divert  her  mind  for  a  while,  time 
and  affection  would  have  healed  her.  Instead  of 
that  you  were  away  a  good  deal,  I  suppose  — " 

Alan  nodded.  "  Yes.  We  began  the  tunnel 
about  that  time." 

"  Yes.  And  when  you  were  home  you  began  to 
be  impatient  and  estranged.  Then  Renshaw  came 
along,  and  gave  her  the  sympathy  and  apparent  un- 
derstanding which  she  needed,  and  which  you  ought 
to  have  given  her.  Oh,  it 's  very  ordinary.  Many 
thousands  of  lives  have  come  to  wreck  in  just  that 
way." 

Alan  looked  impressed.  He  was  impressed,  very 
deeply.  And  tortured,  too,  by  many  emotions  that 
for  long  months  had  been  allowed  no  place  in  his 
well-controlled  mind  —  hope  and  regret,  and  desire 


308      IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

for  the  woman  he  had  loved,  desire  that  he  had 
buried  deeply  away  but  which  he  found  still  very 
much  alive. 

"If  she  had  gone  to  a  psycho-analyst,  or  a  neu- 
rologist, or  to  any  one  acquainted  with  the  signs  of 
sick  psychology,  she  could  have  been  spared  a  deal 
of  misery,"  went  on  Calthorpe,  thoughtfully.  "  But 
I  don't  know  that  it  would  have  been  as  well  in  the 
long  run.  As  it  is,  she  has  been  her  own  psycho- 
analyst. The  slight  split  in  personality  that  her  ill- 
ness produced,  the  accident  and  the  experiences  she 
has  since  passed  through  have  been  welded  together. 
By  the  sternest  kind  of  discipline  this  girl  has  cured 
herself." 

Alan  nodded.  He  was  thinking  again  of  the  mar- 
velous change  that  had  taken  place  in  Elsie  —  a 
change  that  he  had  acknowledged  and  credited,  but 
credited  with  an  entirely  false  basis. 

"  I  should  n't  have  thought  it  possible,"  he  said 
then,  "  that  a  slight  accident  could  so  entirely  meta- 
morphose a  person  —  make  an  entirely  different  per- 
son from  the  original,  as  it  were." 

"  It  could  n't,  of  course.  It  did  n't,"  answered 
Calthorpe,  calmly.  "  The  severe  daily  experience 
she  went  through  only  brought  out  what  was  latent 
and  potential  in  Elsie.  In  ordinary  circumstances 
it  would  probably  have  taken  half  a  lifetime  to  de- 
velop as  much  —  longer  than  that,  maybe.  But  it 
only  brought  out  what  was  already  there.  It 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER     309 

could  n't  bring  out  what  was  n't  there  —  on  the  prin- 
ciple that  you  can't  get  out  of  a  thing  what  is  n't  in 
it." 

"  No,"  Alan  agreed.  "  It  must  have  been  in  her, 
of  course."  He  clasped  his  hands  round  his  knees 
and  looked  thoughtfully  before  him.  "  Knowing 
what  you  have  just  told  me,  I  can  look  back  and  see 
that  she  really  was  wonderful."  He  turned  to  Cal- 
thorpe  with  a  candid  smile.  "  Many  times  I  found 
myself  marveling  at  her  even  then,  and  yet  of  course 
I  attributed  the  change  to  just  the  warning — -the 
shock.  I  wish  I  had  only  known,"  regretfully. 
Then  he  frowned  suddenly.  "  That  fellow  Renshaw 
needs  a  good  thrashing  and  I  'd  like  to  give  it  to 
him." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know,"  said  Calthorpe.  "  He 
wanted  Elsie.  You  made  it  very  plain  that  you 
did  n't.  He  seems  to  have  been  straight  enough 
about  it.  He  wanted  her  to  divorce  you  and  marry 
him.  Sometimes  that 's  the  best  way  out  of  a  hope- 
less muddle.  How  could  you  expect  him  to  know 
that  in  this  case  it  was  n't  ?  Better  forget  him. 
You  yourself  were  the  one  most  nearly  instrumental 
in  handing  her  over  to  him." 

Alan  turned  to  him  with  one  of  his  rarely  pleasant 
smiles.  "  All  right,"  he  said.  "  I  '11  take  all  the 
blame.  Don't  imagine  for  a  moment  that  I  'm  let- 
ting myself  off  scot-free.  I  'm  not.  I  know  I  was 
a  short-sighted,  self-opinionated  idiot,  and  deserved 


310     IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

all  I  got.  But — it  won't  matter  so  much  if — " 
He  paused  again  thoughtfully,  anxiously.  And 
Calthorpe  said  nothing  to  lighten  the  self-condemna- 
tory verdict.  Liking  both  equally,  with  these  two 
whose  affairs  he  was  trying  to  smooth  Calthorpe  was 
quite  impersonal.  He  knew  that  Alan  had  loved  his 
wife,  that  he  still  did.  He  knew,  too,  that  from  a 
man  of  Alan's  make-up  no  other  course  could  have 
been  expected  than  the  one  he  had  taken.  From 
their  different  standpoints  both  Alan  and  Elsie  were 
justified.  Yet  he  was  anxious  to  press  home  now 
the  lesson  the  present  outcome  might  have  for  a  too 
rigid  point  of  view. 


CHAPTER  XXX 

YOU  say  Elsie  is  in  Denver  ?  "  asked  Alan  then, 
after  a  few  moments'  deep  thought. 

"  She  was  at  that  time.     Not  now." 

"  Well,  do  you  know  where  she  is?  " 

"I  have  an  idea.     Why?" 

"  Why  ?  Why,  because  I  'm  going  to  her," 
calmly. 

"  She  has  n't  forgotten,"  observed  Calthorpe 
pointedly,  "  your  outright  refusal  to  allow  her  to  ac- 
company you  when  you  started  for  this  place.  I 
talked  to  her  quite  a  while  trying  to  eradicate  that 
bitter  feeling.  You  see,  she  happened  to  know  that 
her  motive  was  right  and  good,  and  that  you  had  no 
proper  reason  for  refusing  to  have  her  with  you. 
What  shall  you  say  ?  " 

The  keen,  clear  eyes  of  the  man  were  gentle  and 
reminiscent.  "  I  will  confess  my  blundering  stu- 
pidity. She  will  forgive  me,"  he  said. 

Then  he  thought  over  Calthorpe's  words. 
Though  here  to  his  face  Calthorpe  might  be  some- 
what condemnatory  and  reproachful,  away  from  him 
he  had  evidently  pleaded  his  cause  with  Elsie.  Alan 
had  always  felt  for  Calthorpe  the  strong  liking  and 
admiration  that  one  square  man  feels  for  another; 

but  now,  as  he  thought  of  all  this  man  —  busy  man 

311 


3i2      IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

of  big  affairs  as  he  was  —  had  done,  of  the  time, 
trouble,  and  interest  he  had  expended,  he  was  lifted 
for  the  moment  out  of  his  usual  reserved  self. 

"  Mr.  Calthorpe,"  turning  to  him  with  a  grave 
smile,  "  I  'm  not  going  to  thank  you,  in  words,  for 
what  you  are  doing  for  me  and  Elsie.  It  would  be 
foolish  to  try  to.  We  shall  thank  you  all  our  lives. 
But  for  you  it  is  extremely  improbable  that  we  should 
ever  have  come  together  again.  We  should  have 
gone  on  misunderstanding,  and  leading  lonely,  un- 
finished, dissatisfied  lives.  When  I  think  of  the 
trouble  and  valuable  time  you  have  spent  on  us, 
I'm  —  well,  I  just  feel  humble.  I  can't  even  be- 
gin—" 

"  Well,  then,  don't,"  advised  Calthorpe,  lightly, 
but  laying  an  exceedingly  friendly  hand  on  his 
shoulder.  "  Because  instead  of  needing  thanks  I 
feel  highly  privileged.  If  you  can  make  that  girl 
happy,  and  be  happy  yourself,  from  now  on,  I  'm 
more  than  rewarded  for  the  little  trouble  I  have 
taken." 

"  I  can  make  her  happy.  I  know  I  can,"  confi- 
dently. "  You  see,  both  her  past  and  future  will  be 
in  my  hands.  Of  the  past  I  shall  resurrect  only  the 
sweetest  things  out  of  those  times  we  had  together  at 
first.  If  I  can  only  get  her  back,  restore  her  to  what 
she  was  in  those  days !  Did  you  ever  see  her  when 
we  were  first  married?  She  was  the  most  radiant, 
joyous  thing  you  could  dream  of." 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER      313 

"  She  is  very  quiet  and  grave  now,"  said  Cal- 
thorpe. 

"I  know.  That  is  one  of  the  things  —  one  of 
the  changes  —  that  surprised  me  most.  She  grew 
so  quiet  and  —  oh,  weighty  in  manner.  Even  her 
looks  changed,"  thoughtfully.  "  Changed  without 
changing,  if  you  can  understand  what  I  mean?  " 

"  I  think  I  can,"  smiling.  "  Of  course,  you  can 
never  expect  a  return  of  that  thoughtless  girlhood. 
She  has  been  through  too  much.  Her  happiness  will 
always  hold  a  greater  understanding.  It  can  be 
happiness,  none  the  less.  And  how  about  you?  "  he 
inquired  suddenly  and  quizzically. 

"Me?  You  mean,  my  happiness?  Oh,"  he 
smiled  almost  boyishly,  "  if  you  had  just  gone  on 
living  —  just  gone  on  is  the  right  word  —  with  a 
great  loss,  a  want,  tucked  away  deep  and  trampled 
on  and  ignored,  and  some  one  had  suddenly  handed 
you  —  well,  all  you  wanted  —  don't  you  think  you  'd 
feel  reasonably  secure  about  your  happiness? 
That 's  the  way  I  'm  feeling." 

Calthorpe  nodded,  with  a  sort  of  oddly  contented 
smile.  Then  he  looked  at  his  watch,  and  rose. 

"  I  Ve  got  to  catch  the  night  train  south.  No 
question  about  that.  Come  on  down  to  carnp  with 
me,  Alan." 

"  Yes,  I  'm  coming."  Alan  got  up  at  once. 
"  Can  you  wait  a  moment  while  I  speak  to  the  fore- 
man? " 


3H     IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

"  Of  course.     Go  ahead.     I  '11  climb  aboard." 

He  did  so,  and  sat  down  in  a  leisurely  way.  In 
about  five  minutes  Alan  swung  aboard.  He  smiled 
at  the  driver  of  the  jitney  —  the  grave,  pleasant 
smile  that  the  men  liked. 

"  All  right,  Steve." 

As  soon  as  he  was  seated  beside  him,  Calthorpe 
had  a  question  ready  for  Alan. 

"  There  's  just  one  thing  I  'm  not  clear  about  in 
this  case,  Alan.  I  think  you  can  elucidate.  That  is 
Miss  Hamby's  part  in  it.  What  on  earth  made  her 
act  as  she  did?  " 

"  Oh!  "  Alan  smiled.  "  That  was  odd,  was  n't 
it?  I  mean,  the  way  the  different  purposes  —  hers 
and  Elsie's  —  dovetailed  in.  Of  course  neither  one 
understood  what  the  other  was  really  driving  at. 
You  know,  Miss  Hamby  used  to  be  Renshaw's 
secretary  — " 

"Yes.  I  know  that,"  Calthorpe  nodded.  "I 
guessed  that  was  at  the  bottom  of  it." 

"  Yes.  It  seems  — "  He  paused.  "  Of  course  I 
don't  know  just  how  right  she  was  in  her  conjectures 
—  Renshaw  may  merely  have  been  having  one  of  his 
affairs  —  anyway,  she  seemed  very  much  in  love  with 
him,  and  intimated  that  there  had  been  an  under- 
standing between  them.  When  Elsie  came  on  the 
scene,  this  —  this  understanding  died  away,  I  sup- 
pose." He  frowned  slightly.  "  At  all  events,  she 
learned  in  the  office  of  Renshaw's  plan  to  get  me  out 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER     315 

of  the  way,  and  came  and  told  me  of  it.  She  was  so 
afraid  I  would  leave  Elsie  behind  when  I  went  forth 
in  search  of  fortune,  and  so  play  into  Renshaw's 
hand,  she  even  came  to  the  house  to  try  to  — " 

"Humph!  How  discreet!"  commented  Cal- 
thorpe  in  almost  a  sarcastic  manner. 

"  Well,  of  course,  to  me  she  did  not  presume  to 
place  the  blame  on  any  one  but  Renshaw.  And  then 
she  was  very  much  worked  up  and  upset  —  hardly 
herself  at  all,"  said  Alan,  in  an  evident  effort  to  be 
as  charitable  as  possible.  "  I  tried  to  talk  her  into 
a  calmer  frame  of  mind.  I  don't  know  — " 

"  I  guess  you  succeeded,"  coolly.  "  She  's  going 
to  marry  your  successor." 

"  Oh ! "  Alan  was  plainly  taken  aback. 
"  Well  — " 

"  You  don't  know  whether  to  congratulate  him  or 
not?"  queried  Calthorpe,  an  amused  twinkle  in  his 
eye.  "  Oh,  well,"  he  went  on  more  indulgently, 
"  happiness  makes  all  the  difference  in  the  world  to 
one's  disposition.  And  I  suppose  she  did  have  pretty 
tough  luck  for  a  time." 

"  I  suppose  so,"  agreed  Alan,  easily. 

They  were  nearing  the  camp  and  Alan  hastily 
recollected  that  as  yet  he  did  not  know  of  Elsie's 
whereabouts.  He  turned  questioningly  to  the  man 
beside  him,  and  anticipating  the  demand  about  to  be 
made  of  him,  Calthorpe  parried  it. 

*'  Can't  you  ride  on  down  to  Berkhold's  with  me? 


316     IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

Does  this  jitney  business  come  back  up  to  camp  to- 
night?" 

"  No.  But  I  can  see  that  it  does,''  agreed  Alan 
readily.  "  Yes,  I  '11  ride  down  with  you.  Can't 
you  stay  and  have  supper,  though?  The  S.  P. 
does  n't  pass  through  Berkhold's  till  late.  Of  course 
it 's  only  a  mess-house  supper,  but  - 

"  That  would  be  all  right.  I  'd  enjoy  it/'  quickly, 
"  but  I  think  I  '11  be  getting  back  down.  Go  and  get 
a  coat,  Alan.  It  will  be  night  before  you  get  back." 

Alan  laughed  and  shrugged  his  corduroy-clad 
shoulders.  "  Oh,  I  never  wear  a  coat.1' 

"  I  might  want  to  borrow  it  myself  before  train 
time,"  opined  Calthorpe,  casually. 

"Oh!  All  right."  Alan  jumped  up  instantly. 
"  I  '11  go  and  get  it.  That 's  my  shack  up  there. 
Will  you  come  up?  " 

"  No,  I  '11  just  stay  here,  I  think,"  smiling  com- 
fortably. 

"  All  right.     I  '11  be  back  in  five  minutes." 

He  went  up  the  hillside  with  easy,  swinging  gait, 
threw  open  the  door  of  the  little  building,  entered, 
and  took  about  two  steps  across  the  floor. 

Elsie  stood  facing  him.  She  had  taken  off  her  hat 
and  it  lay  on  the  table  beside  her.  She  stood  in  a 
quiet,  waiting  attitude.  Her  head  was  thrown 
slightly  back,  her  lips  parted ;  but  she  looked  neither 
defiant  nor  pleading.  Only  waiting,  with  a  certain 
brave  dignity. 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER      317 

Alan  gasped  with  surprise  as  he  came  to  a  halt 
before  her.  He  looked  into  her  eyes,  and  she  into 
his,  for  one  long  second,  and  then  her  eyes  fell.  He 
held  out  his  arms  with  half-murmured  words  of  re- 
lief and  delight. 

"Why,  Elsie!     Elsie!" 

Elsie  buried  her  face  against  the  soft  wool  cordu- 
roy of  his  coat,  and  felt  the  tight  clasp  of  his  arms 
about  her,  and  the  pressure  of  his  body  against  hers. 
Hot  tears  came  to  her  eyes  —  tears  of  relief  from 
long  and  well-nigh  intolerable  longing  and  suspense 
and  strain. 

Alan  discovered  the  tears  as  he  lifted  her  face  to 
kiss  her.  "What!  tears?"  he  exclaimed. 

Elsie  brushed  them  away  hastily.  "  They  came 
just  because  I  'm  so  —  so  glad  and  happy,  I  suppose. 
I  don't  cry  over  things  any  more.  Have  n't  cried 
since  —  oh,  not  since  the  day  you  went  away." 

Alan  took  the  handkerchief  out  of  her  coat  pocket, 
and,  with  his  fingers  under  her  chin,  wiped  away  the 
traces  of  tears.  Then  he  kissed  her  eyelids  softly. 

"  I  was  a  brute,  was  n't  I  ?     Did  you  cry  much?  " 

"  Oh,  oceans,"  said  Elsie  truthfully,  and  with  a 
little  sigh  of  painful  memory. 

The  faint,  pleased  smile  deepened  on  Calthorpe's 
lips  as  the  moments  passed.  Several  members  of  the 
camp,  bound  for  Berkhold's,  climbed  aboard  the 
jitney.  Steve,  the  driver,  began  to  fidget. 


3i8     IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANOTHER 

"Isn't  Mr.  Leland  going  down  to  Berkhold's?" 
he  inquired  of  Calthorpe  at  last. 

"  I  'm  not  sure  whether  he  is  or  not,"  easily. 
"  Suppose  you  try  that  tuneful  horn  of  yours." 

Steve  did,  and  echoes  awoke  from  the  protesting 
hillside.  Two  figures  rushed  to  the  door  of  the 
cabin,  and  Calthorpe  leaned  out  of  the  jitney  window, 
and  waved  merrily. 

"  No,  he  is  n't  coming,"  he  told  the  puzzled  driver. 
"  Full  speed  ahead,  Steve." 

Steve  lost  no  time  obeying,  and  the  auto-bus  moved 
off. 

The  contented  smile  stayed  on  Calthorpe's  face  as 
he  rode  down  to  Berkhold's,  and  in  his  eyes  was  a 
serene,  almost  reverent  look.  Sunshine  and  spring 
was  on  the  tree-tops  and  on  the  hillsides,  and  in  the 
hearts  of  the  man  and  woman  he  had  just  left.  And 
Calthorpe  found  it  all  very  good. 


